They would see him in the airless cabin, even before he landed. It was like wearing a white sun around my neck. Wouldn't that same logic dictate that if the scratches were from the female victim then they'd already have healed? Not if they come from the second victim. I’m ruined.
He was still shielding from me, still hiding his emotions, but I didn't need to be anything but his friend to know what he was thinking. Thinkingthis, in preparation: Here I am returning to New York, to the very core of The Apple, after summer solstice in L. I was grateful for that tiny edge. I didn't think it was a weak effort, I said.
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