The call came mid-morning on Monday.
Seraphina was sitting behind the counter at the gym, sorting protein bars by expiration date with the methodical efficiency of someone who desperately needed to keep her hands busy. It wasn't that the task was important—no one cared if the chocolate mint expired before the peanut butter ones—but the rhythm helped her think. Or, more accurately, helped her to not think.
Her phone buzzed on the counter. She glanced at the screen and saw her mother's name.
She almost didn't pick up.
But then she did.
"Hi," she said softly.
"Hey sweetie," came her mother's voice, just a bit too cheerful. "Do you have time for lunch today?"
A pause. "Lunch?"
"Nothing serious. I just thought it'd be nice to catch up. Your father and I were talking and realized it's been ages since we've had some proper one-on-one time. You're free, aren't you?"
