Lydia rubbed her forehead and looked toward the elevators like she expected me to appear any second.
They all stood under the warm glow of the lobby chandelier while outside the sky shifted from charcoal to pale blue.
Watching them on the screen, I felt incredibly calm. Not numb, not detached—just steady.
This was the moment everything had led to. The subtle lies. The little stories whispered about my memory lapses. The neighbors had suddenly begun asking me about whether I slept poorly or forgot things.
I remembered the look on May’s face at the cafe downstairs a few days earlier when she asked if I was doing all right and if it was true that sometimes I woke up shouting from nightmares. I remembered how Lydia’s voice had trembled when she brought up the idea of helping me manage my finances so I would not stress myself.
