“The future used to feel like something I wasn’t allowed to touch until I remembered the past.”
“What does it feel like now?”
“Closer.”
He breathed slowly.
“What do you see?”
I looked around the apartment.
The green lamp.
Marlowe asleep in the patch of sun near the window.
Reid’s coffee mug beside the sink.
The harbor beyond the glass.
“I see work.”
“Of course.”
“A shorter day.”
“Better.”
“I see Theo’s boat in the loft.”
“Yes.”
“I see Miriam sending us home with enough food for a siege.”
“Already happening.”
I moved closer.
“I see you.”
His throat worked.
“In the future?”
“Yes.”
“How far?”
The question carried more fear than he intended.
I answered carefully because this mattered.
“Tomorrow morning.”
His brow tightened.
I touched it.
“Next week at the yard. Pear season at Elias’s. Winter storms. Marlowe getting older and pretending he isn’t.”
