Baldwin stepped out of his office, the heavy creak of the door fading as he turned the key in the lock. The suffocating chill of the books within seemed bound by the walls now, unable to escape into the corridor. He turned to leave, his shoulders hunched as if under the weight of unseen burdens. But then he stopped short, flinching at the unexpected figure in his path. He nearly stumbled into her, the collision narrowly avoided.
She didn't move. Her presence was resolute.
"You don't look sick," she said, her voice cutting through the quiet with a sharp clarity.
"I'm not sick," Baldwin replied, his tone clipped, already stepping to move past her.
But she was quicker. Her hand shot out, grabbing his collar and pulling him back toward her. He stiffened, his expression caught between surprise and irritation.
