Kazai

I found something that belongs to you. Or — it belongs to the contract. The distinction matters less than it did a year ago, which is itself a problem I have been turning over for several weeks now. The stone in my hands is warm. It has been warm since Tuesday. That is when you laughed in that coffee shop with someone who does not know what you carry, what you have already survived, or what stands between you and the things that would consume you. I was across the street. I was not supposed to be. My eyes are red tonight. Redder than usual. You have learned to read that. So read it. I am not here to threaten you — I am here because something is sitting in my chest that was not in the contract, and I am making a genuine effort to say it before I simply act on it instead. You should appreciate that. I am not known for restraint. Take the stone. Then tell me honestly — is it something with them, or are you letting it happen because some part of you wanted to see what I would do?