Shadows and First Blood
Chezzi
The next day was better than I wanted it to be.
Moira made me tea strong enough to wake the dead. Finn spent an hour convincing a grad student that her dissertation would be stronger if she stopped citing men who hated women. I shelved, dusted, learned where the cat preferred to nap (on top of Greek tragedies, appropriately). I found three books tucked in the back: a horror novel with a cover torn clean off, a psychology text full of annotations that read like confessions, and a slim volume of ghost stories. I brought them home with the excuse of “inventory check,” but really, I just wanted them near me. “You’re nesting,” Travis teased as I stacked them on the table. “Careful, Princess, you’ll start wanting curtains next.” I flipped him off, which only made him laugh harder.
By the time I headed home that night, the city had sunk into its familiar bruise of neon and shadow. My boots carried me up the stairwell, muscles heavy but strangely lighter than they’d been in months.I unlocked the door. Pushed it open.