ELLIE
The door sticks the way it always has. I put my shoulder into it, and it gives at the second push. Damp wood. Cold stone. Something faintly green in the corner where the wall meets the floor.
"So," I say, stepping through. "What do you think?"
Adrian doesn't answer.
He comes in behind me and stops one pace inside the door. The room takes about four seconds to see.
A narrow bed against the wall with a mattress gone soft in the middle. A wooden chair. A washstand. The window in the far wall that has never shut properly.
I watch his face.
His eyes stop at the mold blooming dark along the baseboard, then go to the window. He crosses to it, pushes the sash up, and lets it fall back down. It doesn't seat.
"Ten years," he says.
"Yes, ten years."
He puts two fingers against the fr
