Don didn't need long to reach Samantha's door.
The hallway felt unusually still this morning. The kind of quiet that settled after too many days of noise and blood.
He paused only briefly at the door, balancing the tray with one hand. Then, with a quick mental nudge, his telekinesis took over.
The tray floated behind him, steady and slow and he opened the door without knocking.
Inside, the curtains were only half drawn. Early light pooled softly across the carpet, streaking the floor with narrow lines of warmth. Samantha's room was as neat as ever—books aligned on the shelf, dresser handles wiped clean, bed undisturbed save for its occupant.
She was sound asleep. Peacefully so.
Don stepped in quietly, the door creaking only slightly behind him as it clicked shut. The tray followed close behind, floating smoothly until he caught it again with both hands.
He made his way to the bed.
