Meadow's POV
The morning air carried a quiet tension, heavy with the residue of the storm that had passed hours before. The streets shimmered faintly beneath the early sun, wet asphalt reflecting neon signs that hadn't yet been turned off and the occasional flash of headlights weaving through the city's arteries. It was deceptively calm, the kind of calm that precedes upheaval, the kind of calm that Tyler would thrive in. You could feel it pressing against your chest, an invisible weight that made your steps toward the meeting feel slower than they were.
