Kyle stepped into the apartment, his eyes immediately drawn to the coffee table where a small pharmacy's worth of pills was scattered. Cold medicine, fever reducers, vitamin C tablets, throat lozenges. The packaging was torn open haphazardly, some pills still in their blister packs, others loose on the surface.
At least she was treating whatever was wrong with her. That was something.
Kyle's attention shifted to the corner of the room where Calista and her mother stood close together, heads bent in whispered conversation. Their body language was tense, urgent.
Calista gesturing with her hands in that way people did when they were trying to explain something complicated quickly. Her mother listening intently, occasionally glancing over at Kyle before focusing back on her daughter.
They were definitely talking about him.
