Chapter 7

The Conversation That Isn’t

The power went out just after nine.

One moment the apartment was filled with the usual low glow of the lamp in the living room and the blue light of Noah’s laptop; the next, everything dropped into thick, sudden dark. The refrigerator’s hum died. The distant city noise outside seemed louder without the buffer of electricity. For a few seconds neither of us moved or spoke. Then I heard Noah’s quiet curse from the couch and the soft thud of his laptop closing.

“Stay there,” he said. “I know where the candles are.”

I stayed.

I listened to him move through the dark with...