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That made me exhale.
Not relief.
Recognition.
We were both inside the same system now.
Just fromdifferent sides.
MASON
I sat on the gym steps alone again.
Phone in hand.
Rowan’s last message still open.
This wasn’t just pressure anymore.
It was structure.
Narrative.
Control slipping sideways into interpretation.
And we were both stuck inside it.
My phone buzzed again.
Rowan.
Rowan:
Are we the problem?
I stared at that.
Long.
Hard.
Then typed:
Mason:
No.
Pause.
Deleted.
Typed again.
Mason:
I don’t think we are.
Sent.
