Adam was still in the apartment.
The room was quiet except for the small sounds he made while working. Chips were placed on the table in front of him, and more copied pieces were kept in careful stacks near the wall. He had already done this too many times.
He picked up another chip and forced his focus onto it.
The copy appeared.
Adam placed it with the others and leaned back.
His body felt heavy. His fingers did not hurt exactly, but there was a dull weakness in them. It was like his whole body had started telling him the same thing again and again.
Stop.
Adam looked at the chips for a while.
"I cannot keep pasting forever," he muttered.
The words sounded small in the room, but they were true.
He had delayed enough. He had hidden long enough. He had used his assets to build a place where he could move. But if he kept staying outside, John would keep tightening the circle around his father.
Adam reached for his original phone.
