Chapter 22
For the first time in what felt like forever, I woke up without an alarm.
No emails.
No spreadsheets.
No William Torres.
Well, that last part was a lie.
He was still in my head, a persistent hum that wouldn't quiet down. He was in my body, too, in the way my muscles felt heavy and well-used. He was in my bloodstream, apparently, like some kind of intoxicating fever I couldn't quite sweat out. But at least he wasn't in my apartment, so that was counted as progress.
Bad, Maddy, bad.
It was Saturday. A day meant for rest, sanity, and pretending my life was not one giant emotional and moral crisis. Usually, even on Saturdays, it was hard to escape the shackles of work. It could be anything: piled-up files, an urgent call from the office, or some "emergency" that required my physical attention.
