Inside, everything felt off by a degree they couldn’t correct.
They caught themself glancing toward Savannah’s desk every few minutes anyway, like she might suddenly appear and make the morning make sense again. She didn’t. The flowers sat where they’d left them, a quiet, ridiculous thing on an otherwise ordinary workstation.
Too much. Or not enough. They couldn’t tell anymore.
By mid-morning, the newsroom noise had started to grate. Every laugh sounded louder than it should have. Every chair scrape felt sharp. Tilly adjusted their camera settings for the third time without actually changing anything.
Jamie appeared at their side without announcement, arms folded loosely, expression careful.
“You okay?” she asked.
Tilly glanced up, then down again. “Yeah.”
Jamie raised an eyebrow. “That wasn’t a real answer.”
Tilly exhaled through their nose. “I’m working.”
“I can see that,” Jamie said. “I’m asking about the rest of you.”
Tilly hesitated. Jamie waited. She was annoyingly good at that.
“Savannah’s not here,” Tilly said finally.
“I know,” Jamie replied. “That’s why I’m asking.”
That landed heavier than it should have.
Tilly shifted their weight. “I was going to talk to her.”
Jamie’s gaze flicked, just briefly, to the flowers. “I figured.”
There was no judgment in her voice. Just acknowledgment.
“Is she okay?” Tilly asked, the question slipping out before they could stop it.
Jamie considered them for a beat. “She called in sick. Took the day.”
Tilly nodded, even though that didn’t answer anything they actually needed to know.
Jamie softened slightly. “You want me to check in on her?”
Tilly shook their head immediately. “No. I mean, thank you, but no. I think I already made enough of a mess.”
Jamie studied them, then nodded once. “Fair.”
She lingered a second longer, like she wanted to say something else, then thought better of it and walked away.
Tilly stared at the gear locker until the numbers on the lock blurred.
They tried again to focus. Forced themself into motion. Filmed b-roll they’d shot a hundred times before. Packed it up. Unpacked it. Did it again.
By lunchtime, the flowers had started to droop.
Harper stopped by on her way back from grabbing food, coffee in one hand, phone in the other. She clocked the bouquet instantly.
“Those are new,” she said.
Tilly followed her gaze and felt their stomach drop. “Yeah.”
