Alina's whole life on Floor 30 fit into one cardboard box.
Avery watched her pack it on the security feed.
He hadn't meant to. He'd pulled up the camera to check something else, he told himself, a delivery, a door, anything. Then his thumb had stopped moving, and he'd simply sat there in his office eighty-eight floors above her, watching a small grainy figure in a green blouse put things in a box.
A mug that said WORLD'S OKAYEST DAUGHTER. A potted cactus. A stack of sticky notes, the same yellow pad she'd pressed against his tie. Her laptop charger. A framed photo he couldn't make out from this angle, though he found himself leaning toward the screen to try.
She did it neatly. No tears. No slammed drawers. She folded her cardigan into a perfect square, the way people fold things when t
