At breakfast
CASPIAN She is in my study when Marcus arrives with the afternoon reports. I’ve stopped remarking on this — her presence in my spaces, the way she has quietly occupied the chair by the window with whatever book she’s pulled from the shelf, her legs tucked under her, her attention absorbed. It happened gradually enough that I didn’t identify the precise moment it became normal. Now it simply is, and I have no immediate plan for addressing that. Marcus comes in, sees her, does his recalibration — faster today than it used to be — and delivers the reports with his usual efficiency. On his way out he pauses beside her chair, says something about her book that makes her almost smile, and leaves. And then it is just the two of us and the afternoon light and the silence that has developed its
- Writer
