Roman sat at his desk long after the sun had gone down, the sound of the rickety ceiling fan cutting through the silence of his apartment.

A pile of essays laid open before him on his desk, half-graded scripts from his political science class, but his mind refused to stay focused. His thoughts kept slipping back to Desiree. The look in her eyes when she’d told him to leave… the disbelief, the fear.

He rubbed his temples and leaned back in his chair. For the hundredth time that night, he ...