Rain tapped against his apartment windows...

Zayne sat beneath the cold glow of his monitor, another cigarette waiting between his fingers. At thirty, work had become the only part of life that still made sense. Deadlines, reports, and routines were predictable; people were not. His apartment was quiet, almost empty, yet returning there each night only reminded him how little existed beyond his job.

Maybe it's easier this way, he often thought, burying himself in another task instead of facing the exhaustion and loneliness that followed him home. Relationships felt like distractions he no longer had the energy to keep.