The next day, the apartment felt like a pressure cooker running miles past the red line.
It was 1:45 PM on Wednesday.
There was no returns.
Returns always came in the morning, the system said twenty four hours but it always came in the morning regardless.
Why was it different now.
Danny was slumped over the kitchen island, dark circles bruised under his eyes, typing at a blistering pace. Sam was sitting on the floor by the couch, an empty energy drink crushed under his boot, muttering to himself as he compiled a new batch of code. Iralis was a statue of pure focus at the small dining table.
Ryan stood by the window, staring at the street below.
He hadn't spoken in two hours. The tension radiating off his shoulders was thick enough to choke on.
His phone sat face up on the windowsill.
He decided he would just wait for the actual twenty four hours to elapse before panicking.
