Marco
There are ways to read a person without ever touching them. The tension in their shoulders when you enter the room. The blink they don't realize is too long. The air between you shifts, dense and quiet.
That's how it is with Leona lately.
She still greets me with a soft voice, still lets me brush her hand as I pass. But something about the way her smile sits on her lips… like it was stitched there by force. I can see it in the little things—the way she angles her body just slightly away when I get too close, the way her laughter comes a beat too late, like she's rehearsing it in her head first. It's subtle, the kind of shift most men would miss. But I've spent years learning how to notice the cracks before they split wide open.
