The b.l.o.o.d on my pillow.
His voice:
Make sure she cannot appear tomorrow.
Then Marjorie:
She won’t.
Proof can feel like rescue.
“Send it to law enforcement.”
“I already did.”
The following morning, I stood in temporary quarters holding a wig.
For fifteen minutes, I considered wearing it.
Then I placed it back in the box.
At 0800, I entered the command briefing room with my scalp uncovered.
Conversation paused for half a breath.
Then Major Nisha Raman, my operations officer, opened a folder.
“Good morning, ma’am. The updated threat assessment is ready.”
No questions.
No pity.
Only work.
By noon, we had resolved two transition failures.
By 1600, Serrano told me Daniel had begun posting photographs online.
He used an image of my shaved head and claimed I had suffered a breakdown because of “career obsession.”
The post had only a few dozen shares.
“Preserve everything,” I said.
