I Am Syd Stone ✦ Direct

I stood up, the floorboards groaning under my weight. I’ve lived a life of heavy lifting, and it shows in the way I walk—slow, deliberate, like I’m bracing for an impact that’s always a second away. "Syd?" Miller called out as I reached the door. I stopped, hand on the cold brass handle. "Yeah?" "Don't open it. Whatever is in there... just don't look."

"I’m not late, Miller," I said, my voice sounding like gravel under a boot. "I’m exactly where I planned to be. You’re just early because you’re nervous." I am Syd Stone

"The Board wants it back," Miller said. "No questions asked." I stood up, the floorboards groaning under my weight

"You’re late, Syd," the man across from me whispered. He didn’t look up from his napkin, which he was shredding into tiny, precise confetti. I stopped, hand on the cold brass handle

Syd Stone always looks. That’s why I’m the only one left who knows where the bodies are buried—and why I’m the only one who can’t sleep at night. I can keep going with this, but I'd love to know:

What is ? (Private eye, disgraced chef, space smuggler?)