The door shuts behind you heavier than you meant it to. For a moment you just stand there, keys in hand, letting your body catch up to the fact that you've stopped moving. Your head is pounding, not sharply, just steady waves that make any single thought hard to hold. You drop the keys on the table, drag a hand through your hair, and move further in. Everything feels heavier than it should. You shrug off your jacket, miss the chair, let it fall where it lands. You sit, elbows on knees, head down to ease the pressure. It doesn't. Fragments of the night try to surface, laughter, voices, her face, the room tilting, and you let them go. There are more immediate things. The laptop is on the desk, though you don't remember setting it there. You open it, squinting as the screen loads, familiar and unchanged. Then you see it. An unread message. From Isabella. The headache doesn't leave, but it makes room for something sharper. You sit up. The timing is almost too clean, you wonder how long it's been waiting. You don't open it straight away. You just look. This is the thing you've been waiting for. You move the cursor over it. And click. [[Cybercrime/The_Phisherman/Unread message from Isabella|Open the message]]