Ch. 7: The Photograph

The city never really slept, and tonight neither did he.

She remembered the first time, and the last, and all the ordinary days in between that had somehow mattered more. There was a history between them that neither would name, written in the things they did not do.

"You shouldn't have come," she said, and the words landed softer than they were meant to. She remembered the first time, and the last, and all the ordinary days in between that had somehow mattered more.

Money could buy a great many things, she had learned, but never the one thing that was wanted most. "I'm not asking you to forgive me," Emily said. "I'm asking you to listen." Emily crossed the room slowly, aware of every step, of the way she was watching without seeming to.

Every choice had a price. Emily had known that for years, and still the knowing never made it easier.

She remembered the first time, and the last, and all the ordinary days in between that had somehow mattered more. There was a history between them that neither would name, written in the things they did not do. "You shouldn't have come," she said, and the words landed softer than they were meant to.

The door closed softly, but the sound of it stayed with her for a long time.