Chapter 10

It’s raining by the time I head home, and I’m soaked walking the few blocks from the station to my apartment.

Sarah’s out when I get into our third-floor apartment; I take in the coziness of the small rental and instantly relax. I’m glad to be home, surrounded by our familiar comforts, bright rooms, and our feminine haven. I’m tired; it’s been a long day, and I want to take a bath and go to bed.

I screw up Sarah’s note on the counter informing me she has made mac ‘n’ cheese and left it in the refrigerator for me, and I throw the paper in the garbage. The perks of living with a chef.

She works late most nights, and I can’t remember the last time we spent more than five minutes in each other’s company. Our lives are comprised of occasional, brief conversations in passing and notes on the refrigerator, which suit me more than when I had to keep her company every evening.

Sarah has been my best friend since forever; we came to New York together five years ago and