Stan drove with one hand on the wheel, the other resting on his thigh as he idly checked his phone while waiting at a red light.
A Snapchat from Vivian sat at the top of his notifications.
This one was different from the usual professional updates she sent him in his capacity as her superior. The tone was personal, almost desperate. It had been typed in one long, breathless burst, the kind that signaled genuine distress rather than performative drama.
