I sit in the dark beside his bed and I don't know why I'm here. That's a lie. I know exactly why I'm here.
Sophie's voice follows me down the corridor for about six steps before she gives up. I don't blame her. I wouldn't follow me either.
I walk the north wing slowly. I'm not rushing … I've made enough impulsive decisions tonight and I'm trying to count the cost of this one before I arrive, the way you're supposed to, the way I almost never do. He'll be annoyed. He'll be professionally distant. He'll make me feel like an inconvenience with five words or fewer and I'll deserve it because I am one, I'm choosing to be one, and I'm choosing it anyway.
His door is the third from the end. I don't knock loudly.
I try the handle.
It's not locked.
I stand in the doorway while my eyes adjust
