MIRA

I always thought the truth would feel light as a window thrown open after years of living in a dark room, but this truth sits differently. It feels like ice water poured over my spine, sinking into every place I once kept warm. New secrets are discovered every week and its like I'm living in a puzzle.

The report lies on the dining table between Jackson and me, its pages still warm from the printer. Jackson hasn’t said a word in almost five minutes and neither have I, just the sound of ...