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Twenty-Three: Glass Rooms and Wildflowers
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2025-06-14 08:30:40Adam Lewiston
The office door shut behind me with a clean finality. It was a hermetic seal against the city's cacophony, a soundproofed promise of solitude and control. I stepped back into silence, took off my suit jacket, and handed it to Ms. Chavez before she went out and return to her station. I ran a hand through my hair, loosening its rigid comb-over. I slightly loosened my tie, the silk sliding free, and then rolled up the sleeves of my shirt to my elbows. Finally, I sat down—exhaling slowly as the leather chair absorbed my weight. The Zurich meeting had ended in success. Numbers lined up. Projections solid. Control maintained. But even now, I could feel a flicker of something else under my skin. An unwelcome tremor that defied logic and calculation. Still him. Still there. I leaned forward, forearms resting on the edge of the desk, the polished surface cool against my skin. That was when
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