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... in seven minutes. 9:37 PM. Her brother should have been home by now. Normally, she wouldn’t worry—Isaiah was more responsible at eighteen than most adults would be in their forties—but something was off.
Ever since he’d come home Sunday night with that weird look on his face, everything had changed. The way he moved around the apartment, checking his phone constantly, zoning out mid-conversation. The distracted half-smiles when he thought she wasn’t looking.
Iris knew that look. ...
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