Because it was too clean.
Mason Reed wasn’t clean.
Nothing here was.
My phone buzzed.
Mason.
Mason:
Are you going to write it honestly?
I stared at that.
Because that was the question underneath everything.
Not journalism.
Not basketball.
Honesty.
I typed:
Rowan:
I don’t know yet.
Then added:
Rowan:
But I think I have to.
FINAL SCENE
They crossed paths outside the facility entrance.
Not planned.
Not avoided.
Just timing.
Mason stopped.
Rowan stopped.
A few feet apart.
No cameras directly on them.
But enough people nearby that it mattered.
He spoke first.
“Everything feels louder here,” he said.
