Hannah glances over, frowning. “What?”
“The lights,” I say, tugging at my collar again. My skin is too tight. It doesn’t fit anymore. “Why are there so many lights?”
She squints at the road ahead, then back at me. “It’s…night.”
That doesn’t help.
“Why are there so many people?” I ask, my voice coming out higher than I mean it to.
She lets out a short, confused laugh. “We live in a city.”
Right.
Of course we do.
Her answer doesn’t calm me. It makes everything worse. My pulse hammers in my ears. The car is way too small. The air too thick.
How many people live in New York now? A million? A billion?
Has every single person on the planet moved to this city since I was last outside?
That’s when I realize…I haven’t been out in a long time.
Not weeks. Not months.
Years.
The thought lands hard enough to set my mind spinning.
How had I not noticed?
I work…remotely.
Order groceries…delivered.
Pay my bills…online.
I drag in a breath. It doesn’t go all the way down, just sticks right in the middle of my throat. Strangling me.
Don’t panic.Don’t panic.Don’t scare her.Get a grip.Oh my God.Why do I feel like I’m dying?
I press my palms flat against my thighs, trying to ground myself in the pressure. My leg bounces anyway. My shoulders hunch. I have an overwhelmingurge to curl into a ball. Like one of those bugs. What are they called? Oh. A roly-poly. Why am I thinking about bugs? Now I’m itchy. My fingers claw at my arms.
Hannah keeps glancing over at me, her expression increasingly alarmed.
“Hey,” she says slowly. “Are you…okay?”
No.
Not okay.
“Fine,” I lie immediately, panting slightly. “Just—uh. Haven’t been out much.”
That’s an understatement. Like calling the ocean damp.
She studies me from the corner of her eye. “You look kind of pale.”
“I’m always pale,” I say, forcing a smile. “It’s a lifestyle choice.”
