I walked home in the dark, my shoes soaked, my chest light. I didn't sleep. I didn't need to. For the first time in years, I wasn't searching for something.
You already know where to look.
I pulled my hand back. The reflection smiled. The water went still. The email was back on my phone when I checked it, but the subject line had changed: Searching for- spiraling spirit in-
But the subject line had carved itself into my thoughts like a splinter. I spent the next two days convincing myself it was nothing. A prank. A weird digital hallucination. But on the third night, I found myself walking the old service path behind the abandoned textile mill on the edge of town. I hadn't been there since I was seventeen, the summer before my father left. Back then, we used to dare each other to climb the rusted water tower. Now, the path was choked with milkweed and shattered glass. I walked home in the dark, my shoes soaked, my chest light
The body of the email was blank except for a single line of white text on a black background, which is impossible because my email client only does dark-on-light. For the first time in years, I wasn't
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