Rafael Moretti
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I heard the door open and close upstairs.
Nikolai and I had been waiting.
We’d seen the photos twenty-four hours ago. We didn’t want to mention it at first, expecting her to talk about it first. When the next morning came and she still hadn’t said anything about it, we decided to text her.
She didn’t respond. We called. She didn’t pick up. Nikolai had assured her we were home. She had read the text, but I didn’t expect her to come back since she wasn’t even replying.
When we walked past us without a word, Nikolai and I shared a glance. He closed his laptop and I set down the takeout menus I’d been going through before the door suddenly opened.
We gave her ten minutes. But in reality, I was just waiting for our food to arrive.
When it did, we moved.
Thankfully,
