The kettle was just starting to sing when someone knocked on the entrance door.
I blinked, half-dazed, the spoon in my hand suspended mid-air. I wasn't expecting any visitor, nobody even knew I lived here. It was already seven o'clock, who visits people that late? The children were sleeping upstairs, and the stillness in the house was sacred.
One part of me was afraid as I switched off the stove and moved silently towards the door, tightening the sash on my robe.
When I opened it, I almost forgot how to breathe as a result if whom I saw.
"Adam?" My voice shattered on his name. He was standing there, weary from travel, eyes dark with something feral. His box stood lazily behind him, his jacket rumpled, hair uncombed. He looked as though he'd had no sleep, as though he'd just stepped
