For a while, neither of us moved. The closet felt smaller than before, smaller than physics should’ve allowed. Like the shelves had shifted inward and the hanging coats were trying to suffocate me. My skin was too hot. My hands were trembling. My lungs couldn’t work out how to process air. Tyler’s breathing was rough behind me, uneven enough that some distant, insane part of my brain registered it with satisfaction. Then the rest of my brain remembered Clair. Clair laughing, saying my name, saying I was safe, stable and smart. How she mentioned my families money, my goal of a high paying finance job, her options on the side and how oblivious I was to almost everything. My stomach turned so sharply I thought I might be sick. Tyler’s hand left me carefully, like he’d suddenly realised I wasn't there. The absence of it made me feel exposed. Cold, wrong in a way I couldn’t explain without wanting to punch a hole through the nearest wall.
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