I was not sure when it became a habit.
Not the staying, I was aware of the staying, the evenings that extended into nights, the mornings where taking a car back to my apartment felt like an interruption rather than a return. I was aware of that progression and had been watching it happen with the specific, wary attention of someone who knows they are moving toward something and has not yet decided whether to step back.
What I was not aware of, not immediately, was the waking.
It happened first without intention. A noise from outside, or just the particular restlessness of sleeping in a space that wasn't entirely mine yet, and I surfaced at five thirty in the morning and the penthouse was dark and quiet and through the gap in the bedroom door I could see the faint, ambient glow of the ci
