The night air felt crisp as I stepped outside.
Stars gleamed above, indifferent to the turmoil below.
I needed space, a moment to breathe and think.
The weight of what I discovered was suffocating.
My hands trembled as I lit a cigarette, the only vice I allowed myself in these moments.
The smoke curled into the darkness, a fleeting escape.
My mind replayed the call, his words looping endlessly.
“It was just a random attack,” he had insisted.
Each time I heard it, the doubt grew larger.
My instincts screamed that there was more to the story.
