The Collector turned to leave, then paused at the threshold. “The guitar is getting heavier.”
The notification arrived at 6:00 AM sharp, not as a gentle chime but as a low, guttural hum that vibrated through the floorboards of Leo’s apartment. He didn’t need to check his wristband. The hum meant the Waste was ready. waste pickup
He sat on the edge of his bed and stared at the closet door. Tomorrow night, the regret would begin to seep back in. A new argument. A new silence. The same guitar. The Collector turned to leave, then paused at the threshold
“I know.”