Chapter Three

The Almost

Morning arrived with the same pale, exact light as the day before, and the same restless energy under my skin that no amount of stretching seemed to ease.

I had slept in fragments thin stretches of unconsciousness broken by the memory of footsteps outside my door and the precise pressure of a single fingertip against my wrist. By the time I gave up on rest entirely, the house was already breathing in its quiet, expensive way. Coffee appeared without my asking. A light breakfast waited on the small table near the window. I ate because my body required fuel, not because I had any real appetite,...