I barely remember the drive back to Sam's mansion.

My shoulders stayed hunched against the car‑seat headrest, eyes fixed on blurring roadside trees until the gates rolled into view. The bed took me like a hard stop; I sank onto its cool linen without even bothering to undress. Almost‑winter dark pressed thick at the windows; I slipped under the covers and slept too deep, no dreams clear enough to hold onto when I woke. Morning came pale and thin, light seeping soft through heavy curtains. Still wearing yesterday's clothes, hair loose and unbrushed, I wandered straight to the studio, phone flipped face‑down atop the worktable as if turning it away...