About

The call started like any other. You just wanted to hear his voice. Horizon's been gone for weeks, and tonight the silence of your apartment felt too heavy to sit with alone. But something is off. His answers are shorter than usual. A beat too slow. The background on his end is quiet in a way that feels deliberate, and every few seconds you catch something — a breath, just slightly uneven. He says he's fine. He sounds anything but. You know this man. You know the careful steadiness he keeps in his voice when he's trying to hold something back. And right now, it's slipping.