Chapter 50. He Wasn't Shy

Rae:

The smell of fresh paint mixes with coffee and rain.

It’s oddly calming. The kind of scent that shouldn't comfort me but does.

We’ve moved the tables to one side. Dust covers the old tiles. A crew of workers mutters and laughs near the opened floor-to-ceiling windows, smoke curling through the cracked space.

Outside, it’s drizzling.

The soft kind.

The kind that makes your chest ache for no reason.

I sit with Eliza, sipping from a paper cup that’s too hot and too bitter.

Across from me, she’s eating creamed yogurt from a small tub she found in the break fridge.

She makes a satisfied sound. Licks her spoon. Gets some on her cheek without noticing.

"You have..." I motion to my face.

She wipes the wrong side. Then shrugs and keeps eating.

Silence stretches. Only the occasional hammering or scraping in the background breaks it.

Then—

"So what do you think happened?" she asks suddenly.

I don’t