SINCLAIR COMES THROUGH the front door with a bag in his hands. I'm curled up on the couch where he left me after my involuntary—and quite frankly embarrassing—outburst an hour earlier. After I had calmed down enough to realize I should be embarrassed of snotting all over Sinclair's shirt, he had led me up to his apartment and sat me down on the couch. The apartment was cold due to the fact that he was never here anymore; this past month and a half, he had either been at my place or he had been staying in his office that was right beside my old room at Carla's. He had gone back into his bedroom and returned with a blanket which he promptly threw over my shoulders before he went a fiddled with the thermostat, cranking up the heat. He placed the remote to his TV in my hands before he kissed m
