Page 43 of Ashen Souls

“Absolutely not.” Harper looped her arm through mine. “I’m the one who pushes you off the dock. Reality is for people with boring pulses.”

My phone buzzed.

Mom: How was class?

Me: Good. New professor. Not boring. I’m okay.

“Come on,” Harper urged as we stepped out into the biting air. “Food. You need your strength if you’re going to ‘accidentally’ haunt his office hours.”

“I am not haunting anyone.”

“I’m manifesting it for you.” She squeezed my arm. “Also, if you write about Selene and Endymion, I am proofreading for smutty subtext. For science.”

The café was a cramped, humid slot wedged between a bookstore and a copy shop. It smelled of burnt espresso and wet winter coats. We claimed a small table in the back.

Food arrived: something green for me, something deep-fried and questionable for her.

Harper shredded the ego of a girl in her seminar who’d tried to cite TikTok as a primary source, and I laughed until my ribs hurt.

It almost worked. I almost felt like a normal twenty-something girl.

But the illusion never lasted. A persistent prickle crept under my skin. My eyes would drift to the fogged windows, to the shifting shadows by the door. The sensation of something standing behind my shoulder, waiting for the conversation to end.

When we finished, Harper paid, declaring me on “medical probation.” Outside, the rain had returned in a fine drizzle that washed all the color from the street.

“I’ve got lab,” she said, pulling up her hood. “You okay to walk?”

“I’ll be fine.”

She hesitated. “Text me if your brain does anything weird.”

“My brain is always weird.”

“Extra weird,” she clarified. “Ominous weird.”

I smiled. “I will.”

She lingered, searching my face as if looking for a crack she could fix, then nodded and headed back toward campus.

I turned in the opposite direction.

The first day back had drained more than just my energy. It had stripped me raw. By the time I reached my door, my bag felt like it was filled with stones. The noise of the university still vibrated behind my eyes like an afterimage I couldn't blink away. The scraping chairs. The chatter. Hale’s resonant voice.

Inside, the silence was a relief.

No parents. No Harper. Just the hum of the fridge and the dim light of the afternoon filtering through the curtains. I kicked off my shoes, left the bag where it fell, and moved to the kitchen in a daze.

I leaned against the counter while the kettle hissed on the stove. I chose an herbal tea meant for sleep, for calm, for forgetting the sort of day that left your thoughts tangled.

For the first time since the accident, I didn’t feel any real urge to search for explanations. I didn't want to think. I didn't want to dissect the lecture or the fact that Hale didn’t recognize me. Whatever answers might exist could wait.

What I wanted, more than anything, was rest.

I took my tea to the bed, wrapping a blanket around my shoulders until the shivering stopped.

I could deal with everything tomorrow.

Tonight, I wanted to disappear into the pillows.