Daniel sat motionless, staring out the window at the blur of skeletal trees and passing power lines. The cup sat in his hand, beads of water trailing down to his knuckles. He hadn’t taken a sip. He was holding it without thinking — like a prop, like a tether.
His jaw ached from clenching. His body remained stiff from all the tension. And still… still… the kicking continued. Light at first. Barely there. Then sharper. Rhythmic. He inhaled slowly through his nose. Counted to four. The next kick landed squarely. His seat jolted forward. His fingers reflexively squeezed the cup. And the water tipped.