The front door of the White family's home shut softly behind Ethan.
He stepped down the stone steps, the late evening air brushing against his face. The sky had turned a soft indigo, with the last light of day fading behind the trees. A few crickets had already begun to sing in the quiet woods.
Ethan glanced at his phone.
6:50 PM.
"(Damn… it really took that long?)" he thought.
He could still feel the tension from earlier lingering on his shoulders—the conversation with Panny, the whispered warning to Noah, and the weight of carrying knowledge that no one else should have.
"(So much for a normal day.)"
He walked toward the road, pulling his phone out and calling a taxi. The reception up here was bad, but luckily, he had one bar—just enough to get the call through.
As he waited, he looked up at the sky, hands in his pockets, breathing slowly.
"(I hope this is enough to stop that tragedy.)"
