The air feels heavier here, like it’s pressing them into place.

The notes are scattered between them — a messy constellation of slanted black ink. 

Tobi doesn’t touch them anymore. 

Zion picks one up, turns it over like it might reveal a secret if she just stares long enough. 

Lanre just watches her — arms folded, jaw tight. 

No one speaks.

Until Zion finally says: 

“You kept all of them?” 

Tobi nods. 

“I thought… if I could line them up, they’d make sense.”

Zion sighs. “Do they?”

“No.”

A faint laugh escapes her, bitter. 

Lanre crouches closer.

“This one,” he says, pointing to the latest note — the one before the one he gave her. 

“Where did you find it?”

“It was in my bag. Like all the others.”

He frowns.

“That doesn’t make sense. I checked your bag when you went to the restroom. Nothing was there.” 

Tobi stares at him, too tired to even be angry at that admission. 

“Maybe it showed up after.” 

“Or maybe,” Zion murmurs, “whoever’s leaving them… is closer than we think.” 

Tobi blinks.

“You mean… you think someone’s watching?” 

Zion and Lanre exchange a glance.

Neither denies it. 

Then Zion says softly: 

“You really don’t remember Maro?” 

The name sparks again at the edges of her mind.

Heat and something metallic.

A whisper she can’t quite hear. 

“No,” she admits. 

Lanre rubs the back of his neck. 

“Maro… was in your creative writing group. He’s the one who told me about your manuscript. Said you wanted feedback. That’s how I got it.” 

Her head snaps up. 

“What?”

“You didn’t give it to me directly,” he says carefully. “He did. Said you trusted me more than you let on.” 

Her pulse thrums.

“That doesn’t make sense. I don’t even remember him.” 

“You did,” Zion insists. 

Her voice is quiet, but there’s something behind it — something that sounds like guilt. 

“You two… spent time together. Before the blackouts started.” 

Tobi presses her fingers to her temple, trying to will the memory back.

Nothing. 

Just darkness.

And the faint smell of rain.

She glances at the notes again.

The last one still lies at the top of the pile. 

Tobi. You’re close. But you’ll ruin it if you panic. Show them. Trust them. 

She whispers the words aloud. 

Like an incantation.

Lanre and Zion don’t interrupt. 

When she finally looks up at them, her throat feels tight. 

“I need to find him,” she says. 

Zion nods.

“And we’ll help.” 

Lanre exhales through his nose, almost a laugh.

“Guess we’re in it now.” 

Tobi gathers the notes into a neat stack.

Stands slowly, her knees stiff.

For the first time in weeks, her chest feels just slightly less hollow.

“Maro,” she says again, letting the name settle in her mouth.

A clue.

A key. 

She tucks the stack of notes into her bag and straightens her shoulders.

“Let’s start there.”