Another Kiss?

My room felt colder than it had a few hours ago. Not in temperature—but in presence. My thoughts swirled like a storm cloud over my head, refusing to clear. I curled up on the edge of the bed, knees tucked against my chest, staring at the closed door like it might open again. Like he might knock again.

But he didn't.

And that made it worse.

I reached for my phone and sighed as I scrolled down to Prisca's number. Still no messages. Still no calls. Still nothing. This was the fifth day. Four days of me needing her, wanting her to say something sassy and sarcastic and grounding. I tapped her name and waited, listening to the dial tone like it might comfort me.

It didn't.

Then the line connected—but no voice greeted me.

"Prisca?" I whispered. "Hello?"

There was no response. Just the subtle, eerie sound of someone breathing faintly on the other end. I sat up straight, confused. "Prisca, are you okay? Say something…"