TANISHA
I’d only ever seen Christof Gustavo’s house from the outside, through the tinted windows of his SUV, or from the driver’s seat of my Corolla when I pulled up every morning and waited. From a distance, it always looked the same. Quiet, composed, heavily guarded.
Walking into it was something else entirely. The doors were heavy, but it opened smoothly. The first thing that caught my attention was the space, real space. A space like that would either let you breathe, or suffocate you. Well, depending on your mood.
The ceilings were high but not dramatic about it, the walls a soft palette of stone, warm gray, muted cream. Nothing flashy.. Just comforting. The floors were polished wood, not glossy, not trying to reflect anyone’s face back at them.
Rugs lay where they made sense, t
