THE CONFRONTATION
The apartment was too small for the conversation they needed to have, but it was the only space Sophia could claim as hers. Damien sat on the chair Elena usually occupied, his knees too high, his shoulders too broad, his presence transforming the room from cramped to suffocating. She had not invited him here. He had followed her from the community center site, maintaining distance until she reached her door, then stepping forward with an expression that suggested he would wait on the landing indefinitely if she refused him entry.
She had refused. He had waited. She had relented, hating herself for the weakness, recognizing the pattern even as she replicated it.
Maggie was asleep in the bedroom, her evening medication pulling her under with the reliability of a tide. So
