*Aryanna*

Darren climbed out of the car first. My mind was elsewhere, tangled in the chords of the music that lingered in the cabin like an accusation spoken in silence. It was yet another ploy to provoke. It wasn’t a coincidence, but he clearly held no confidence in what he chose not to express. That song—my song—wasn’t chosen by accident. He wouldn’t have played it if he didn’t have his suspicions. It seemed he sensed something amiss, his intuition perhaps sharpened by ...