DOMINIC
She went to her room.
I heard the door close down the hall — not slammed, not hard, just closed, the click of the latch settling into place — and I stood in the entrance hall for a moment and listened to the silence that followed it.
Then I went to the kitchen.
I made tea I didn't drink. I stood at the counter and looked at the city, which was doing what it always did — indifferent, illuminated, moving without noticing the things happening in the buildings above it. I had lived here for seven years and the city had never once cared what was happening in my penthouse and it did not care tonight.
I thought about what I had said.
You're always waiting to leave. You've been waiting since the first week.
True. I believed it was true. I had watched it happening — the morning withd
