Elise Don lay in bed for several days in a row, barely wanting to leave the room except to eat and use the bathroom.
The world goes on without her, as if the world outside the room has nothing to do with her.
With her eyes closed, she lay on her side, occasionally glancing at the time on her phone—2:00 PM, 2:30, 2:45—the time passed more slowly. She then curled into a ball, enduring the solitude, waiting for sleep to come.
At the same time, Oliver Bloom disentangled himself from the lunchtime social engagement and got into the car, listening to Kyle Carter report on the project's wrap-up last night.
He said nothing, his gaze fixed outside the car window.
Spring in Northern City is very short, and because of its brevity, it holds a rare beauty—the damp air smelling of fresh grass, and the over-wintering bullfinches chirping on budding branches.
