POV: Maya
The letter was handwritten. No one had handwritten her anything since her father died.
Maya stood in her Shoreditch flat with a knocking radiator, and a cracked window. The rain was falling. London rain which was grey, steady and endless. The kind of rain that soaked into your bones and stayed there.
She had been in London for five days. The flat was small,cold and had a corner window that overlooked a narrow street full of restaurants. A kitchen with a stove that worked sometimes and a bathroom with a shower that dripped.
Patricia the new succulent sat on the windowsill.while Ramona was in Brooklyn with Sophie the grad student. Ramona was thriving as at the time Maya had asked.
The letter had arrived that morning, pushed through the mail slot. Cream envelope with Julian's h
