POV: Iris Hartwell
The cab ride back to her apartment took seventeen minutes. Iris counted them, watching the city slide past the window in November gray. Forty-two blocks south, through traffic that moved like something exhausted, until the driver pulled up to the building she'd lived in since marrying Daniel.
She paid in cash and didn't wait for the change.
Her hands were steady as she unlocked the apartment door. That surprised her, she would have expected them to shake. Would have expected her body to register the shock of what had just transpired. Instead, she felt very still, very present, as though some essential part of her had gone quiet and was watching the rest of her from a distance.
