Page 67 of Glitched Play

Not even my family.

Especially not my family.

Birdie would already be asking why I look constipated.

Parker would wave a hand in front of my face.

Greyson would assume I'm solving a problem.

Only Maci stands perfectly still.

Waiting.

Giving me room to process without realizing that's exactly what I need.

Something warm spreads slowly through my chest like a sunrise peeking over a mountain.

It makes no sense. Feelings don't make sense. They’re inefficient and unpredictable. Impossible to quantify.

Now one woman has dismantled my nervous system simply by standing in front of me wearing an emerald dress and refusing to rush my silence.

My gaze drops for the briefest moment.

Her lips.

Then immediately returns to her eyes.

I shouldn't know they're soft.

I don't know but I want to.

Where did that thought come from?

It certainly wasn't invited.

"Maci."

Her name leaves my mouth quietly.

Almost experimentally, like I'm testing how it sounds when nobody else is talking.

She smiles. Just enough that those tiny flecks of gold brighten again.

Eyes shouldn't change because someone smiles, yet hers do.

She's real.

The thought arrives without warning.

Rune has always existed inside speakers, computer monitors, handwritten letters folded into envelopes I've kept for years.

Pixels.

Code.

Words.

Maci Hart is standing inches away.