The night pressed against me, weighty and unyielding. My breaths came shallow, catching in my throat. Passing a small street vendor, I paused. Habit drew me there. I chose a simple iced treat, a small attempt to cool the fire burning in my chest.
The first bite was strange—salty, bitter, hollow. Then I remembered his voice, echoing in my thoughts: “You know it will chill your stomach, yet you cannot resist it.”
I looked down at the dessert, noticing tears glistening on its surface. No wonder it tasted off. I wiped my eyes with the sleeve of my coat and turned toward my apartment.
The small device on the corner of my desk blinked faintly—Kael reaching out, as always, through our line of contact. “Have you returned?”
I ignored it. Another followed, soft but insistent: “The dinner went poorly tonight. Perhaps we should invite them again another evening.”
I remained silent, letting his words fade. Finally, his patience thinned, and I sensed the pull of his presence, a mental reach for me across the city. I set the device aside, letting the connection dissipate.