Chapter SixTHE NEXT MORNING, WHITNEY woke up thinking of Bruce. She brushed her teeth, got dressed, did her makeup thinking of Bruce. She walked to the subway thinking of Bruce.
He hadn’t kissed her when he dropped her home, but she knew he’d wanted to. She’d wanted to invite him up for a cup of coffee, except that she didn’t keep coffee in the house, so that would have been a pretty flimsy excuse.
When she got to the subway station, a chipper young man in a green apron handed her a free paper. The news of the world brought the unsavoury aspects of yesterday streaming to mind. She fully expected to see the escalator death on the front page, but that slot was devoted to American politics, as so often happened these days.
She didn’t open her paper until she’d squeezed herself into
