Knox:
The moon hung low, fat and yellow over the city skyline as I leaned against my bike outside Viv's. The night still hummed with the aftermath of the club—music pounding in my bones, Viv’s lips on mine still tattooed in my memory like sin I didn’t want forgiveness for.
I could still picture her clear as day. All leather, legs, and rage.
But when I saw her apartment lightly glowing on from the alley, something in my gut told me the wildfire had settled to ash. That maybe, just maybe, the smoke was still curling from something more fragile.
I took the stairs two at a time, boots thudding. I didn’t knock. Didn’t have to. Her door wasn’t even locked.
Inside was dark, except the TV flickering against the far wall, casting shadows on the hardwood floor. The air smelled like lavender and
