I wake up early and she's standing over me like a rain cloud in the washed out backlight from the window. She smells of black tea and generic cologne (Guess Seductive?), the first thing on my mind is where Henry's hand is. He's asleep beside me, covers kicked off, she looks carefully at my feet, then my legs, then his hand.
This is it, this is when she kills me. Our eyes meet, I
listen for traffic from the street outside, something to interrupt her
but her insipid little girl's voice is what breaks the dithering
silence: "I hear it's snowing in New York". She says it and leaves, just
turns around in one fluid motion and walks out of the room, cautiously
closing the door behind her.
Five hours later now and I still don't know what that means.