Artemisia

As I step inside, my heart stops.

Cayden has his face buried in his hands, and I feel so much desperation at seeing him like this, that I could cry.

I wish I could step around the desk and hug him, but that would hardly be appropriate.

“Please take a seat,” he says with an exhausted sigh, and I sit down, keeping silent.

As he passes a hand over his face, it looks like he’s about to think about how to start the conversation. I give him time to come up with something, but as ...