The curtains were only half drawn.
Morning sat in the room without asking permission, pale light stretching across the floor, stopping just short of the couch where Luna sat. The script on her lap had been open for a while now. Same page. Same line halfway down. Her finger rested against the margin like she'd been about to turn it and forgot why.
The TV was on mute. Faces moved. Headlines slid across the bottom. None of it held.
The knock came once.
Then the door opened before she answered.
Deborah didn't step in fully at first. Just enough to lean against the frame, phone already in her hand, eyes not on the room but on Luna.
"You've seen this yet?"
No greeting. No lead-in.
Luna didn't move. "Seen what?"
Deborah crossed the rest of the way in. The soft thud of her heels on the floor, deliberate, measured. She held the phone out.
"Just watch."
Luna took it.
Her fingers were steady. That was the first thing.
The video started before she could think about it.
