London · Bloomsbury
January 22, 2025 — 14:30
Eva’s phone buzzed twice in her pocket.
She was sitting on a bench in Russell Square, basking in the pale winter light—if the thin, colorless wash that passed for sunlight in London could be called basking at all. Resting across her knees was a curator’s handbook, opened a third of the way through. She had bought it merely to maintain Nora’s persona, yet somehow she had found herself genuinely absorbed in it.
Her phone vibrated again.
She took it out and glanced at the screen.
Leo:
“I’m stuck.”
“Can’t paint. My head feels hollowed out.”
“Will you come sit by the river with me? The same place as last time.”
Eva stared at the screen for three seconds.
Since the night they met at the Blind Pig, Leo hadn’t contacted her again. She had ass
