MAYA

Dominic still hadn’t finished the story.

It had been days since he told me the ruined man was his father, and every time I asked what happened after prison or tried to get him to continue the story, he found another way not to answer me.

Sometimes he ignored the question completely; other times, he told me I was impatient. Once, he had actually said, Tomorrow. That had been three tomorrows ago.

Three weeks in his house had somehow created a routine between us before I realized it was happening.

Dominic spent more time with me now. Sometimes he sat on the sofa working while I read; other times...