In the back of the proxy van you sat, the tires rolling smoothly against the pavement. the air felt heavy—thick even as masky drove you all to who-knows-where. You and the rest of the proxies were assigned a new mission today, one that required distance to be crossed to meet the location at which you would execute your plan.

For some reason, you felt off today. The van felt suffocating, like each of the doors were pressing in on you and all the air had been sucked out. Close proximities weren’t entirely your thing, but apparently it was something you needed to “get over” as your duties were “more important”.

The entire drive, you’d been texting BEN. which he got in your nerves occasionally, he was your safe space. The one who understood you. And as if on que, you saw his pale, blood stained hand reach through your phone screen. He took your hand in his, giving it a reassuring squeeze.