He came at two in the afternoon, which was the latest he had arrived since the first night.
She had been watching the clock without meaning to — had noticed herself noticing when eleven came and went without a knock, and then noon, and had told herself this was not concern so much as awareness of schedule, which was a distinction that felt less convincing as the afternoon progressed. She was at her laptop when she heard his footsteps on the stairs, and she registered the relief of it before she had time to consider whether relief was appropriate.
She opened the door before he knocked.
He looked like a man who had spent the morning in rooms that took things from you. The composure was present but thinner than usual, worn at the edges in a way that suggested effort rather than ease. He wa
