LOGINDisagreement they could manage. Defiance they could frame.This unsettles them.“You’re being dramatic,” one man mutters.“I’m being precise,” I reply.“I won’t do it,” I say. “Not like this.”Silence stretches.Not awkward silence. Strategic silence.They wait, hoping I’ll fill it. Hoping I’ll so
They don’t come quietly.That’s the first thing that tells me this isn’t a request.The message arrives through three channels within the span of an hour, layered like pressure instead of communication. A formal notice routed through council protocol, stamped urgent without explanation. A clipped fo
I lean back, folding my arms, staring at the ceiling for a moment as the implications settle. “Which means whoever’s behind it doesn’t want a face.”“Or can’t afford one,” she says quietly.The thought lands heavier than it should.For weeks, I’ve been bracing for backlash. For anger. For defiance.
Sally doesn’t come to me with panic.That’s the first thing that tells me this matters.She waits until the evening quiets, until the compound settles into that low, steady hum that comes after dinner and before sleep. The hour when patrols have checked in, when voices soften, when even restless wol
“Because I don’t want you walking blind.”I tell them the paths that avoid known conflict zones. I mark them on a rough map, fold it carefully, and hand it to the father. I give them supplies anyway. Food. Water. A med kit.“If you change your mind,” I add, “this is where you can find us.”The daugh
They arrive at dawn.Not in a flood this time. No frantic rush spilling across the border like a wound torn open. Just a handful of figures moving quietly out of the trees, exhausted in the way that tells me they’ve already burned through whatever panic kept them upright through the night.Smaller n







