Obey: 1. The First Note

The day it began was unremarkable. That, perhaps, was what made it so dangerous.

It was a Wednesday, gray-skied and damp, the kind of day where the streets smelled of rain long before a drop fell. She had gone about her routine as always—coffee from the corner café, a quiet shuffle through the subway, the low hum of coworkers discussing deadlines in the glass-walled office. Nothing extraordinary, nothing stirring. She was used to it.

Routine was safety. Routine was numbness.

Her name was Clara, and she’d often wondered—though never aloud—if her life had already ended in some quiet way, if she was just going through motions like a ghost that refused to notice its own death. At twenty-seven, she had the sort of life her parents praised as “stable.” A decent apartment in a neighborhood that was safe enough. A job that paid the bills. Friends she occasionally saw for drinks on Fridays. No crises. No passion.

She was folding her umbrella at her desk when she noticed the