67

Going back to work was my first decision when I woke up that Wednesday.

Not even Tristan was persuasive enough to keep me at home, and I deliberately ignored each of his efforts to distract myself while talking about his story about demons. He wanted me to help him in a chapter where his blocking had required more than one version to be written, and even when I recited excerpts that formed in my head as if the story was originally mine, he tried to convince me that leaving the house was a bad idea that day.

My medical certificate allowed me another week of rest, but I couldn't stand still. At home I would have to keep Tristan company and his strange writing habits, or I would sink into the room and spend hours texting Zachary. None of those options were appropriate to stabilize my dignity.

So, I waited for Tristan to be distracted by his notebook and prepared to go out, passing as furtively as possible through the room. He only noticed my lack when I was already entering the empty nig