Chapter 9

The message came in just after lunch.

miss you if you're around later

No punctuation. No emoji. Just the soft weight of her presence through the screen.

Ezra didn't respond right away.

The fear had been climbing all day, like water lines on a wall after a flood. Thin and uneven layers, each one older, heavier, more permanent than the last. Every file he opened read like a warning meant only for him. Every name on every document had started to look familiar. It gnawed at him, the sense that there was a pattern to it all, but he couldn't quite pin it down. He was thinking too small.

He made it through the afternoon without speaking to anyone. No more visits from IT. No check-in from the secretary. Just the screen, the blinking cursor, and the growing certainty that the system was studying him back.

He looked up at the clock for the first time since lunch, it was nearly 5:30.

Ezra blinked, startled by how late it had gotten. He stood up, gathered his things more slowly than he wanted his body to move, and stepped into the hallway without a sound.

He pulled out his phone.

on my way

Then he dropped it back into his coat pocket and headed toward her.

The daylight was discomforting. It was usually dark by the time he arrived, he felt exposed.

Ezra rang once and the lock buzzed open. He stepped inside, swapped his shoes for the sandals waiting by the wall.

He moved through the almost pulsing purple and up into the blue.

Her door was open, just slightly, the way it always was for him.

"It's me," he said, gently tapping against the wood.

"Come in."

The room was the same as he remembered it, muted in tone and smelling of lavender disinfectant. Only now the curtains were pulled tight.

Natalie sat on the edge of the bed, away from the window, legs crossed, one hand resting on her knee.

"You closed the curtains?" he asked.

"I saw a drone hovering there earlier," she said. "It frightened me."

"What was it doing there?"

"How can I know?"

His coat hung on the hook the second try, and he placed the money on the nightstand before beginning to undress.

Then it hit him. If they knew what he was doing at work, why wouldn't they know where he went to after, who mattered. His face began to flush with fear.

Natalie shifted slightly on the bed, uncrossing her legs as Ezra stood there, half dressed. Her voice came soft, but without hesitation.

"What's wrong?"

"I need to sit down."

He lowered himself onto the mattress beside her. It dipped under his weight, just enough to shift hers slightly, the way old things gave in once their time had come.

"You don't look so good," she said. "Do you want some water?"

He shook his head. Elbows on knees, face in his hands. He stayed like that for a moment before sitting up to speak.

"It's coming from every angle."

Natalie didn't answer, she merely reached over, slowly, and rested her hand on top of his.

He stared at the floor for a moment, like the right words might be hiding in the grain.

"I think…" he started, then stopped. Took a breath. "They gave me a new job. A promotion."

Natalie said nothing, just let her thumb brush lightly across the back of his hand.

"I don't know what it is I'm doing. These cases at work. They're..."

Still nothing from her. No push.

"I keep seeing my name where it shouldn't be. I don't know how it got there. I don't know why."

The silence hung for a moment. Once she knew he was through, she spoke without looking at him.

"You sound like my father."

Ezra turned slightly, but didn't speak.

"Everything weighed on him," she said. "Not just what was happening, but what he didn't understand. He'd say, 'you don't have to lock the door if you're already inside the cage.'"

She looked down at their hands.

"I think it scared him more, not knowing which part was the trap."

She shifted slightly, the mattress again mirroring her movement.

"Back home, we used to unplug the phone."

Ezra glanced at her, curious.

"Even when we weren't using it. He said it still listened."

She looked back at him, but her expression was unreadable in the low light.

"You had to follow the rules. But you didn't have to follow all of them well."

She paused, then added, quieter now, "It was hard to tell what made a difference. But maybe it mattered not so much."

"How did he cope with it?" asked Ezra, desperate for any guidance.

"He worked."

"What do you mean?"

"He would always talk about his part, what his job was. He would say how he was a drop in the bucket, but enough drops would overflow it."

The silence returned between them. Ezra's breath deepened, relaxed just enough.

"Lay down," she said.

She guided his head gently to the pillow, climbed over top of him. Slowly, she slipped his shorts off, placing one soft kiss after another down his thighs.

The bell over the diner door gave a dull clatter as he stepped inside.

He was hungry. Not starving—just newly aware of the emptiness. He took the same booth near the back. The smell from the kitchen reached him almost immediately—grease, onions, something baking. It was warm. Familiar.

The sign outside had gotten worse. Only the N and E were still lit. The R was gone now. Just two letters, casting a faint red glow onto the sidewalk. The light distorted slightly by a passing shower.

The waitress brought him a menu, but didn't place it on the table.

"Usual?" she asked, as she poured his coffee.

He nodded. Eggs and toast, corned beef hash. Just a few dashes of Tabasco.

The diner, usually filled with the bustle of late-shift workers and corner-booth drunks, was quieter tonight. Not silent, but subdued. Like everyone had agreed, without speaking, to keep their heads down.

He ate, finished his coffee and left the cash under the lip of the plate.

Outside, the rain had passed. The sidewalk was damp, the air rinsed clean. It wasn't cold exactly, but a chill lingered in his sleeves.

He zipped his coat halfway and started walking back to the car.

Across the street, a digital billboard cycled through an ad for perfume—some nearly bare-chested woman wrapped in silk, eyes closed, lips parted.

Then the screen cut out before lighting back up.

One word.

NOW

Ezra stopped, stared for a second, and then kept walking.