~Caden's POV~
He has not turned the key.
The thought arrives at 6:50 a.m. with the particular clarity of something he should have noticed sooner. He left her building forty minutes ago. He sat down in the car, put his hand on the key, and did not turn it. He has been sitting here since, watching the gray light come up over a street he has visited seventeen times now and could not draw a map of if asked.
He does not examine why. That is the part that troubles him more than the staying itself. Examination would require him to admit there is a reason, and the reason would require a name, and he has spent ten months learning that some things go better unnamed for as long as they can be left that way.
The street wakes up slowly around him. A man walks a dog past the corner store. A delivery
