I wasn’t sure if it was because I’d tattled on Rafe yesterday, but this morning Otto just pawed at my arm with his sandpaper-like claws and licked my face before I could even get out of bed. What surprised me more was that Rafe was already dressed, typing rapidly on his keyboard in the dining room.

  "Why are you up so early?" I asked reflexively, wondering if he was talking to the Ainsworth clade—but that sounded too accusatory. I shifted my focus to breakfast instead. "Do you want boiled eggs and oat milk cereal?"

  The typing stopped. I could feel Rafe’s gaze stab into my back like a knife.

  "You’ve never asked me before."

  "Forget it." I poured two scoops of dog food into Otto’s bowl, pushed his nosy head aside, pulled some boiled chicken breast from the fridge and shredded it, then added a handful of blueberries and raspberries. Finally, I cracked three eggs over the top. I hadn’t even set the bowl down completely when the puppy pawed at my arm and began sucking up the raw egg.

  I poured myself a small portion of cereal, added water to a small pot, and dropped in two eggs.

  "I want five boiled eggs. No cereal."

  "There are only four left. Should I cook all of them?"

  "Yeah."

  If I never came back here again, at least there wouldn’t be a stench of rotten eggs in the fridge. The thought took hold and grew stronger, like I was sleepwalking—I emptied the rest of the oat milk into my bowl, ate the last two oranges, chopped up an apple, and dropped the pieces into Otto’s bowl.

  After washing the puppy’s dish, I turned off the central air, moved all the houseplants out to the yard, and emptied every small trash bin…

  "What are you doing? I thought you’d be back before finals." Rafe closed his laptop and stepped in front of me, blocking my way to the bathroom. "What’s going on with you?"

  That sense of “I might never come back here” was fading. It all started to feel like some illogical dream. Rafe’s expression grew serious. He turned on his phone flashlight and shone it into my eyes.

  "You’re not acting right. Did you not sleep last night?" He pulled the empty milk carton and cereal bag out of the trash, inspected them, then tossed them back in. He turned off the induction stove boiling the eggs.

  "My sleep’s fine. There’s no expired food in the house. I wouldn’t have food poisoning—unless someone poisoned me." I turned the stove back on, leaned against the table, closed my eyes, and tried to concentrate. "I think… I need to use my Skill?"

  Rafe looked at me in shock as I began scribbling in my notebook, his brows slowly rising.

  "According to Tuesday’s balance theory, when she uses her power in Nowhere, it pushes me into an inactive state. I have to use my Skill to rebalance things."

  As I imbued the sticky notes with reality-altering power, that creeping sense that I might disappear from this world began to fade. Hunger and fatigue rushed in right behind it. I apologized to Rafe as I scarfed down all the boiled eggs, not even bothering to peel them clean. Then, like a leopard tearing the head off a rabbit, I ripped open a new box of cereal and poured it straight into my mouth, chasing it with tap water before it even had a chance to soak.

  My first private jet trip turned out nothing like I’d imagined. Rafe acted like a full-time butler—lugging all our suitcases, grabbing coffee and an absurd amount of chocolate on the way to the airport, handing off the car to an Ainsworth clade staffer, then holding my hand and Otto’s leash as we searched for the gate.

  I kept bouncing between using my Skill, eating chocolate, sleepiness, and walking—so disoriented I nearly collapsed more than once. Somewhere in that fog, I got dumped onto a plush sofa. A small, heavy weight suddenly landed on my thigh—Otto’s big paw.

  Warm, humid air blew across my face. A jolt of unease surged through me, sharp enough to make me shove the dog’s head away. Squinting through dry eyelids, I scrawled something in my notebook—words I didn’t even understand—and activated the Skill like a thunderstorm crashing down on the page.

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  I don’t know what happened next. My vision trembled and roared, the world folding in on itself with a force so massive it wrapped around me—but strangely, I didn’t hate it. I had no idea how long it lasted. Eventually, I found myself sprawled across the sofa. When I moved, the paper beneath me crinkled loudly.

  "Sorry. I didn’t give you too much trouble, did I?"

  Rafe was sitting beside me, one hand pressed to the back of my neck, looking stunned and exhausted.

  "Do you have any idea what you just did?"

  I sat up, glanced around. Sunlight poured into the cabin through the porthole windows. Crumpled papers littered the floor. As I reached up to rub my eyes, something dropped from my right hand onto the carpet.

  "I don’t know… but the plane’s still flying, so I assume I didn’t break anything too important." I crouched to pick up the object—it was a black dip pen, the nib still sticky with some dark red goo. Luckily, it didn’t smell like blood.

  Rafe let out a long breath and ruffled my hair. Only then did I realize my hair was a tangled mess, like a long-haired stray.

  "It’s fine. You didn’t hurt Otto or attack anyone. These—" he gestured to the papers, "—are what you wrote. Do you remember any of it?"

  Gaining all these useful new powers just by blacking out? That almost felt like cheating. I flipped open the notebook, and the deeper I read, the worse my headache got.

  It started simple: words in English like unlock, cure, pain, DNE, die. I could feel each page’s function just by touching it—what it did, how it could affect the world. Then midway through, the text shifted to Chinese. The effects became vague, unstable.

  I stared at the final sheet, the lines stiff and chaotic, concentrating so hard I forgot to breathe.

  "This might be a pictograph—no, it is a pictograph. It’s a hand!"

  Excited, I yanked the page, expecting it to tear, but it held fast to the metal binder. Rafe ran his fingers along the deep grooves just like I had, letting out a surprised little hum.

  If activated like a Collection, the page would summon a hand next to the user—but I couldn’t tell what it would look like, how it would behave, or if I could even control it.

  "If you trace it far enough back, human civilizations have tons of overlap. For example, the symbol for ‘eye’ in ancient cultures almost always looks like an eye." I bent down to collect the motion-sickness bags I’d covered in scribbled organs, smoothed them flat, and tucked them into the notebook. "Before written language became abstract, it coexisted with imagery for a long time. In early human history, writing was images."

  It hit me—Tuesday’s power and mine were the same thing at the core. As people grew more complex, writing drifted away from images, became a system, a tool for abstract expression. That discovery made me feel closer to Tuesday—like her pupils overlapped mine. Like she saw what I saw. Felt what I felt.

  "Is that… a good thing for you?" Rafe still hadn’t relaxed, keeping a cautious distance.

  "I think so. Haven’t your Skills ever shifted in range?"

  "Of course they have."

  Jealousy makes men aggressive. Rafe kept his face stiff as he pulled my crossbody bag from the overhead compartment—I'd packed it last night. I grabbed my toiletries and headed for the bathroom, giving him some personal space and time.

  "Also—thanks for not killing me back there. I can imagine how terrifying that must’ve looked." I said it softly just before closing the bathroom door.

  The puppy had curled up in the corner, trembling, looking up at me with wide eyes.

  "Oh no… no no no… I’m so sorry, baby…"

  The moment I held my arms open, my angel of a dog stood up, turned in a couple of hesitant circles, and took one cautious step toward me. I stayed in the pose, waiting for Otto to decide.

  When he nuzzled his nose against my face, I made up my mind. I scooped him into my arms.

  "Thank you. Now Mommy’s going to take a shower, okay? Go play with Rafe for a bit. What just happened… it won’t happen again." I set him gently outside, took off my clothes, and stepped into the shower.