It’s 4:17 in the afternoon. November. The light outside just went from “late autumn golden hour” to “the world is ending and everyone you love will eventually leave” in about eleven minutes. You’re standing in your kitchen staring at something you opened the fridge for but can’t remember what, and your entire body just… dimmed. Not sad, exactly. Heavier. Like somebody turned the gravity up by 15% and forgot to send the memo. Your jaw clenched. Your shoulders crept toward your ears. And somewhere between your sternum and your belly, a small grey animal curled up and refused to explain itself. Congratulations. Your retina just filed a missing persons report…