I swung my legs off the bed, bare feet hitting the cold floor. The room was dim, gray morning light seeping through the curtains, heavy clouds outside smothering any real sun. Snow drifted lazily past the window—slow, fat flakes that barely moved, like the world was holding its breath.
I stood, walked to the desk, grabbed the cigarette pack with shaking fingers, tapped one out, and lit it. The first drag burned my throat, sharp and familiar. I exhaled slowly, smoke curling toward the ceiling.
What the hell was that?* Silk… Was she the woman with the umbrella? The one from the dream?
Miko said they let Silk go for nothing. What did that even mean? Why did it feel like I'd heard it before? Like it mattered?
Another drag. The nicotine steadied me a little, but the questions kept circling.
No work today, at least. I could breathe. Relax. Maybe figure out what the fuck was going on.
