Rose's Point Of View
The damp morning chill had already seeped through the thin soles of my flats, settling deep into my bones before I could even clear the threshold of my apartment. I was running incredibly late… a fact that sent a fresh wave of anxiety rippling through my already frayed nerves.
I stood there in the dim, narrow hallway, my heavy winter coat only half-buttoned, my purse strap sliding awkwardly off my shoulder, desperately trying to shove my house keys into my pocket with one hand while gripping my phone in the other. The simple act of leaving for work had become a fumbling disaster, my coordination failing me as exhaustion and stress took their toll.
Then, the phone vibrated.
It didn't just ring. It felt like a violent, high-voltage shockwave traveling straight up my arm, seizing the muscles in my shoulder. The sensation was visceral, almost painful, as if the device itself knew what was coming. My stomach dropped with a sickening lurch of recognition.
