The rain hammered against the windows, a relentless rhythm that mirrored the thudding in Liam’s chest. He hadn’t left his apartment in days, the takeout containers piling up like forgotten monuments to a wasted week. He scrolled through his phone, a dull ache settling behind his eyes. A text message from Mark popped up: "Dinner tonight? My treat." Liam almost deleted it, the effort of replying feeling monumental. But guilt, a familiar companion these days, pricked at him.
He dragged himself out of bed, the floorboards cold beneath his feet. He could see his reflection in the hallway mirror, and he didn't recognize the gaunt face staring back. It felt like another person entirely.
At the restaurant, Mark was already there, beaming. "Hey, man! How's it going?" Mark, always Mark, radiating energy. Liam managed a weak smile, the muscles in his face protesting. Over plates of pasta, Mark regaled him with stories about his high-pressure job, the deals he was closing, the late nights. Liam listened, picking at his food. Then, on the way to the men's room, Liam saw Mark's usual office clothes, folded neatly in a bag. He had to know. The bag said "The Learning Center".