Not a question. She felt the shape of what that meant — that he knew, that he had known, that somehow in the hours between her sending and this moment he had been reading what she'd written — and she held the door and looked at him and let the understanding settle over her without reacting to it, because she was very good at not reacting to things and because she needed a moment to decide which of the several things she was feeling was the one she was going to lead with.
"You should come in," she said.
He came in. She closed the door. The flat was small in the way city flats were small — not cramped, but honest about its dimensions — and his presence in it had the immediate effect of making the rooms feel more deliberate, the way a piece of furniture placed correctly made a space feel de
