[SERA — POV]
He came to the Ash Market at three.
She was already there—at the tram station, because the tram station had become their place without either of them deciding it was, which was how places became places. She'd come because Dorn had sent a message through the protected channel: formal review convened, preliminary hearing tomorrow, your testimony required, bring everything.
Tomorrow. Twenty-four hours.
She texted him: Dorn moved. Formal hearing tomorrow. Where are you.
He'd appeared at the tram station twenty minutes later. She'd seen him from half a block away—that bearing, that particular walk that was so entirely his own—and felt something that she identified and then did not identify.
He sat next to her on the bench. Not across, not at a tactical angle. Next to her, clo
