Page 99 of Glitched Play

She said it as though quiet love counts.

As though the way I remember Witley’s dinosaurs or arrange Noelle’s chaotic decorations so they don’t overwhelm the room or keep Birdie’s favorite tea in the pantry matters as much as the way my family hugs and cheers and says everything aloud.

Maybe it does.

Maybe I have spent too much of my life assuming volume determines value.

The thought is uncomfortable.

So is the next one.

Maybe letting go of Rune doesn’t mean I loved her less.

Maybe it simply means she already let go of me.

I close my eyes and rest my head against the seat.

For years, Rune was the safest place in my life because she was separate from everything else. Separate from family. Business. Expectations. Loss. She existed in a space I could control, a system with rules we both agreed to follow.

Maci exists in all the spaces I cannot control.

My office.

My penthouse.

My family.

My thoughts.

My routines.

She is real in a way Rune never was allowed to be which should make her easier to resist.

It doesn’t.

It makes everything worse.

The penthouse is dim when I walk in just after eleven.

The city glows beyond the windows, but the living room is lit only by the television and one lamp near the couch. A baking competition plays at low volume, featuring three people arguing about frosting consistency with more emotion than the situation warrants.

Maci is on the couch.

Not asleep.

Almost.

She’s curled under a blanket with one bare foot sticking out, hair piled messily on top of her head, wearing pajama pants covered in tiny ghosts and an oversized T-shirt that says GAME OVER in faded letters. A bowl of popcorn sits against her hip, and several kernels have escaped onto the couch.

Usually, I would notice the mess first, but it’s her I noticed. My system is glitching.

I do notice the popcorn on the cushion, a few kernels on the floor, two on the blanket and a smear of butter on the side of the bowl

My brain catalogs every disruption, but unexpectedly, dismisses them.

The penthouse looks lived in, not damaged or invaded.

Lived in.