Rhys POV
She now takes her coffee differently.
I noticed it on day two and I filed it the way I file anomalies in acquisition documents — not acted upon, not discarded, placed in a category labeled requires further data and left to accumulate context. It's a small thing. Cara took her coffee black, always, the way she did everything: clean, decided, no variables. The woman in my house adds milk. She adds it first, before the coffee, which means she's not precious about temperature, which means there is probably no sugar. The sequence is automatic. Unconscious. The kind of habit you can't perform because you don't know you have it.
I've been collecting these. The ink stain on her wrist. The way she looked at the light coming through the kitchen window for five minutes on a Tuesday mornin
