Don’t miss a bit of the story:
We carry what we leave behind long after we move on. How does returning to your origins change your understanding of yourself?
Let’s explore the weight of the past together because the search for truth is universal.
Jericho Ward 7
I woke up perched on the edge of my sleep shelf, still holding my digital link clutched in my hand. The last I remembered, I had curled up with it, waiting for the all-clear.
I stood up to stretch. I was stiff, but it felt different from atrophy. I must have paced five terraspans back and forth in my unit last nox. It wasn't as though I could go anywhere after Jeb left. During a sweep, no one was allowed out of their units, let alone the building, until everything was wrapped up. I was extra wired since I hadn't gotten out for my constitutional before Jeb showed up.
Thank goodness for Zonk. I don't use it too often, but last nox, it was the right choice. I'm still a lightweight, half a tab, and I…well…I don't remember anything else. Thinking more clearly now, it seemed obvious that if the sweep went on that long, it was because they were still looking for…whatever…
If it had been Jeb, he must have gotten clear.
I refreshed the digital link to check my messages, hoping by some miracle there would be something from him. Instead, there was a hit on one of my news alerts.
Jeb never made it home.
His body was found on the Expressway tracks along the souvern route through the Jericho suburbs. I reread the article stub frantically, as though new details might appear at my insistence, until an eerily familiar stillness settled over me.
