The Unlocked Truth

Claire's fingers are white around Warren's phone, the photo of him unlocked still glowing, her other hand pressed flat against his chest where she felt the belt's edge. She asks again, 'Who is David?' and the cage key in Warren's pocket feels like a live coal as he opens his mouth with no lie ready. The wig on the table is a blonde accusation, and the silence stretches until Claire's thumb moves toward the message thread, ready to scroll.