Chapter 24: The Morning Run

I woke up with sun on my face and no idea what time it was.

For three years I had woken at four in the morning, every morning, with my hand already reaching for my phone.

The window was full of white light.

The clock on the nightstand said ten past ten.

I lay there and listened to my own heartbeat, and it was slow.

Vincenzo was awake beside me, propped on one elbow, watching me with his hair in his eyes.

"You slept through," he said.

"Did I?"

"Ten hours straight."

"You were watching me sleep for ten hours?"

"I fell asleep too," he said, a little sheepishly. "I've been awake for twenty minutes."

I laughed into the pillow.

Then I lay very still, and I looked at the air above the bed.

There was nothing there.

I looked at the ceiling and at the lamp and at the window.

I waited for the pale words to come, as they always had when I was happy or afraid.

The room stayed ordinary.

"Nothing," I said.

"Nothing?"

"No lines. Not since the garden."

He did not ask what they would have said.

He put his hand on my hip and kissed my shoulder, and let me have the quiet.

"I'm going out," I said.

"Out where?"

"The market. The one on the south side." I sat up. "I want to see the stall."

His hand paused on my skin.

"The old stall."

"A woman there sells flowers now. I went past it last week and cried in the car."

I pulled my knees up.

"I'm not asking you to come. I want to walk there by myself."

He took a slow breath.

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