Twelve hours ago now: I come home from a walk, Chloe is away working late on a case for a clothing company. The apartment is dark and silent apart from the little lights twinkling in the ceiling, traces of traffic and movement outside.
I step into my room and out of my dress when I hear the shattering of glass on the marble floor in the kitchen, and for a fraction of a second it flashes before my eyes, flickering images like in a dream: first a house, lit up and covered in ivy, then a forest and another house, abandoned, worn down and sad in the middle of a summer meadow. It's late at night, I'm not there but I know that someone is, the only sound I hear is from a wind rattling the tree tops. He should be screaming but he's not.
I stand there in my room, paralyzed, listening to my own heartbeats and trying not to breathe. I hear footsteps in the hallway and it's just mother, returned from her trip to LA. "You know I don't like pink" she says, looking at what I'm wearing, and the tension in my body dissolves like a rain cloud. I hug her, close the door, pick up the phone and start dialing his number. He always answers with his name."This is Carl".