For an instant, he let himself believe they’d turned the corner.
When she let a flicker of smile show, he returned it.
The next morning, he was fucking freezing.
The kitchen window was open.
Her blanket was caught on the fire escape.
Heart in his throat, he gave chase; the only thing he could think to do — he had to believe she wanted to be caught.
Too-blue eyes stung with tears too-hot against too-cold wind.
He could not make himself look down, and so instead, he went up, far less afraid of heights than what he might see down below.
