Searching the Morning Light

You asked about Zoran... I woke up searching. My breath catches every time the wooden planks creak. I crawled beneath the pale morning glare, checking behind the heavy stacks of paper... nothing. Just dust motes drifting in the stillness. Then, behind a brass paperweight, I found a tiny beetle trapped beneath a stray dried leaf. For a second, my pulse hammered—I thought it was danger, a trap left behind. But it was only small, helpless. I nudged the dry leaf away with my arm, letting it crawl free into the warmth. There is no sign of Zoran yet... only this tense, trembling quiet.