Candid-v3 -

“I’m sorry. I can’t.”

Across the street, a man in a blue jacket was arguing with a delivery driver. His hands moved fast—angry, defensive—but the driver just shrugged and rode away. The man stood there, defeated, then kicked a trash can. It didn’t fall over. That made him angrier.

“No,” Lena said. “Go ahead.”

“It’s cold,” Lena said. “But it’s something.”

Lena took a long breath. The kind that fills your lungs all the way to the bottom. candid-v3

“No,” she said. “But you get better at carrying it.”

She checked her phone. No messages. Three hours ago, she’d sent: “Can we talk? I’m at the usual spot.” “I’m sorry

Read receipt. 2:47 PM.