January arrived like a held breath finally released.
The holidays were over. The decorations came down. The city shook off its champagne hangover and returned to the business of living. And I stood in the middle of an empty storefront in Brooklyn, surrounded by boxes and dreams and the terrifying freedom of something that was entirely mine.
"You're thinking too loud," Adrian said from the doorway.
"You're not supposed to be here."
"It's my building."
"It's my office."
"Same thing, different font."
I turned to look at him. He was leaning against the frame, coat collar turned up, hands in his pockets. He looked like he belonged here—in this neighborhood, in this moment, in this life we were building together.
"I'm scared," I admitted.
"I know."
"What if no one comes?"
"Someone wil
