The call came at 3:17 a.m.
Mira Lawson would later remember the exact second because it split her life into a before and an after. Before, danger had been political. Abstract. A game of cameras, councils, and cruel words spoken behind polished doors. After, it was human. It had a voice. It had her mother's breath shaking through a phone line in the dark.
Her phone vibrated on the nightstand like it was afraid of being picked up.
She stared at it for a long moment, heart already beating too fast, already knowing.
The screen lit up.
Mom
Mira sat up so quickly the blankets slid to the floor.
"Mom?" she whispered.
"Mira, sweetheart…" Her mother's voice was soft, careful, the way people spoke when they didn't want to scare someone but knew they were about to anyway. "I need you to listen to me."
Mira swung her legs over the side of the bed and stood. The room felt too small suddenly.
"What happened?"
"There were people here today," her mother said. "At the shop."
