The neon digital clock on Elara’s bedside table ticked over to 4:00 AM, the red numbers blurring through her tears. For three months, this had been her ritual. The house was silent, but her mind was a crowded stadium of memories she couldn't shut off.

By the time she hit "five," the sun was beginning to bleed through the blinds. He wasn't there, but for the first time, she was okay with the empty space.

Snap. She saw the coffee shop where they’d had their last fight. The taste of cold espresso and the way the rain looked against the window. Snap. Snap. Snap.

Snap. She pictured his jacket—the denim one she’d finally dropped in a donation bin last week. She thought she was over the scent of his cologne, but her brain kept inventing it in the middle of the night.

With one final, sharp snap, she grabbed her headphones. She didn't need the silence anymore; she needed to drown out the echoes. As the song pulsed in her ears, she started pacing. If she couldn't stop the memories, she’d just have to move faster than they could follow.