December settled over the city with the particular quiet that came after the first snowfall.
Not much. Just enough to soften the edges of the sidewalks and rest on the branches in the square below Damien's apartment. By morning most of it had become slush under the movement of thousands of people on their way to work, but for a few hours the city had looked gentler than usual, as though it had remembered something about stillness.
Lena stood at the kitchen window with her tea.
She had stopped thinking of this as Damien's apartment.
Not consciously. She only noticed it because she caught herself telling Maya the previous evening, I'll be home by seven, and home had meant here without her needing to correct herself afterward.
The move was almost finished.
Her apartment in Brooklyn stil
