The night didn't settle quietly.
It pressed in, thick and persistent, the kind of darkness that made the walls feel closer than they actually were. Dayo sat on the edge of the bed, elbows on his knees, fingers loosely clasped together, staring at nothing in particular. The phone lay on the mattress beside him, screen dark, silent. He had picked it up three times already. Set it back down each time.
His mother's voice was still in his head. You are afraid. Sharon's too. You wanted to lose her? And Jeffrey, lighter but no less pointed: You can't leave this one hanging.
