ZURI

“Denny.”

He didn’t answer at first. He was leaning against the balcony rail, his shoulders slumped, and the night breeze tugged his hair softly. The moonlight turned his face pale. I stepped closer and called again, gentler this time.

He turned and blinked like he hadn’t heard his name in a long while.

“You should be sleeping,” I said. “It’s almost dawn.”

His eyes shifted toward the open sky. “I couldn’t,” he muttered. “Not when he’s still lying there like ...