I hadn’t spoken to Elliot in almost two years when the message request came through.
It was late. I was half-watching a rerun, folding laundry I’d already avoided for three days, trying to pretend my life felt stable. Then my phone buzzed.
Facebook message request.
From a woman I didn’t know.
Her profile photo looked harmless enough. Soft smile. Neutral background. The kind of picture people use when they want to appear reasonable.
Then I saw her last name.
