(Sean's POV)
I'm still clapping when I realize it.
Not because I decided to. Not because the room was clapping and I followed. My hands started moving on their own, the way they've been doing things without asking me lately — reaching for coat hooks with no coat on them, calling phones that go to voicemail, turning on lights in empty offices.
Rebecca is still at the podium. She's answering a question from someone in the front row — a woman in a gray blazer leaning forward, nodding. Rebecca's hands are moving when she talks. She's not performing. She's just — there. Present in a way that fills the room.
I don't stop clapping until everyone else does.
Hannah's hand is on my arm. I look down at it. She's been quiet for the last ten minutes. I can feel the quiet — the specific kind that m
