You blocked Alejandro Lujan before the taxi even reached your apartment.
The moment your thumb pressed the button, the screen went quiet. No typing bubble. No incoming call. No dramatic explanation from the CEO who had spent the last two years telling you that you were “the only person holding the artist division together.” Just silence, bright and clean.
For the first time in months, your phone felt light in your hand.
You leaned your head against the taxi window and watched Manhattan slide past in late-afternoon gold. The glass towers, the yellow cabs,
