A hush came down around me. Staring at the phone, I did not blink. Around the walls, the air grew heavy. Time slowed, stretched thin by silence that leaned on the glass.
Last night bled into what comes next, right when Brooklyn hung up. A quiet took over, just before twelve, eating her words moments after I asked about Jayce Patterson. It didn't fade - it vanished, sudden, without a sound.
Off she went, halfway through the start. Silence stays, as if words were never asked for.
A noise - gentle yet clear - rose from inside my coat. The display gave no name, just blank space where one should have been.
"Hello?"
"Is this Daniel Anderson?"
Male voice.
"Yes. Who's this?"
"Jayce Patterson. I need to ask you something. Are you seeing Brooklyn Miller?"
A hush crept in between breaths. Above, clouds pressed low, dense like wet clay.
"Yes. Why?"
Then silence followed.
"Did you know she's been with both of us?"
