Daisy’s POV
Wednesday morning arrived the way Wednesday mornings did, without announcement, without ceremony, with the particular quality of a week that had already been significant and was not finished yet.
I had slept well. That was worth noting because I had not been sleeping well for most of the weeks I had been in this apartment. The grief moved around at night, finding the gaps in the day’s busyness and filling them. But Wednesday morning I woke up at seven and the room was light and I lay there for a moment and felt something that was not quite peace but was in that direction.
Friday works. I had sent it. It was sent. The message existed in the world and Dexter had read it. I knew because the small indicator under the text had changed, and that meant the thing was in motion and
