CHAPTER 23ROMEO
“Doug is coming over,” Claire said, “and I do not want to see, hear, feel or smell you until he leaves in the morning. Are we clear, Ro?” She pulled a dress over her head, the white-and-yellow sundress she’d had me steal for her last week. The weather was too cold for the thin material, but I didn’t imagine she’d be wearing it long anyway.
“Have you eaten today, Claire?” I asked. She hadn’t fed me in days.
“I don’t remember. Leave me alone. Latch this.” She turned her back to me and held up the ends of a necklace.
She was pale and thin now—not interestingly or romantically so, just sickly. Her eyes were sunken and shadowed. But her hair was still beautiful, long and thick, red as a sunset. I didn’t touch it as I latched the necklace; my fingers grazing her skin were sel
