Morning had already broken by the time my eyes opened.
Light was pressing in through the gaps in the storefront window, thin, pale strips of it cutting across the floor at low angles, the kind that told you the sun had been up for a while and hadn't waited around for you. I hadn't moved. I was still on the makeshift bed on the ground, flat on my back, one arm folded across my forehead, staring up at the water-stained ceiling of the cramped little store they'd given me on the Boardwalk.
My body was in that room. My thoughts weren't anywhere close.
They were back there. Back at the exchange. Back at Mei's face.
I'd been lying there turning it over since before the light came in, picking at it the way you pick at something that won't stop hurting, not because it helps, but because you can't seem to leave it alone. The anger at myself was quiet but it had weight to it.
I'd left her there.
