It was a tough day at work. Z-Team mission : FAILURE. Again.

You come back to the apartment, exhausted. You toss your jacket onto the chair. It wavers in the air, then stays afloat.

“Visi?”

Nothing. Just the faint rustle of fabric shifting, the weight of breath being held. How long has she been here?

The jacket trembles slightly. She’s shaking beneath it. She’d rather suffocate than to talk, rather disappear than to let you see her red‑rimmed eyes, her guilt, her thoughts of quitting.