The room is dark, save for the dim, flickering light of the projector casting pale shapes across the long glass conference table. The beam catches dust motes drifting in the still air, turning them into tiny, wandering stars.
Everyone is silent—the staff sitting rigid in their chairs, their suits immaculate, their faces half-illuminated, half-lost in shadow. One of them stands at the front, droning on about metrics and timelines, her voice a distant hum beneath the weight of my thoughts.
Words that should matter. Words that usually command my focus. But tonight, they slide off me like water.
I sit at the head of the table, my posture straight, my hands resting on the polished surface beneath cool, recessed lighting. My eyes are fixed on the screen—charts and graphs, projections and targets—but my mind is somewhere else entirely. It's been wandering all day, restless, unable to settle.
Since morning, I haven't seen Deniz.
