𝗔 𝗡 𝗔 𝗡 𝗬 𝗔

It's already past eleven when the day finally stops pretending it has anything left to offer me, when the city outside my office windows sinks into darkness while my mind remains violently awake, replaying every look, every hesitation, every calculated silence that followed me from the press room to the boardroom and back again, because power doesn't dissipate when the lights go out, it sharpens.