“You’re terrible at that,” Hector said, watching me without mercy.
I glared at him over the cigarette. “I’ve had a difficult week.”
“You’ve had a difficult decade,” he said, while leaning his forearms against the railing.
I turned back toward the city and stared out at the lights below. A siren wailed somewhere in the distance and faded.
“I used to think if I worked hard enough, eventually everything would settle down,” I said quietly.
He turned his head toward me. “And?”
I smiled without humour. “I’m forty percent sure adulthood is just one long scam.”
“Only forty?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.
That earned a real laugh from me, which kind of surprised me a little.
The conversation drifted naturally after that. We talked about cities we’d visited, terrible restaurants, terrible b
