Later, after you have shut your door and pretended the room is steady, Elizabeth texts: "Home?" A second message follows before you answer: "I meant what I said. You do not have to do the loud parts alone." The kindness lands harder than an insult. It assumes you are still reachable. It assumes there is still a person inside your fatigue worth calling back. You stare at the screen longer than the message requires, thumbs hovering, composing honesty and deleting it, composing a joke and deleting it, composing the smallest possible truth and still deleting it because truth has become a dangerous substance in your life. Your reflection in the dark phone glass looks older than this morning. [[Cybercrime/The_Phisherman/Morning After Party|Wake up after the party]]