The hallway yawns before me, dimly lit and smelling of mildew and someone’s forgotten takeout. I trudge down the stairwell. My feet are heavy, so f*****g heavy. Just putting one in front of the other is the hardest thing I’ve ever done.
I should have known better. In hindsight, it’s so f*****g obvious that she’d tell me to go to hell. What did I expect—that she’d welcome me with open arms after everything I’ve done? After what she saw in that alley?
The image of her standing in the doorway in her funeral clothes burns behind my eyelids. Her ribs poking through a sweat-stained undershirt. I did that to her. I broke her down to this shadow of the woman. She used to march into my office ready for war, and I ruined her.
Outside, the midsummer humidity hits me like a wet wall. The world does
