#2
The apartment was dark when we let ourselves back in, the church bell somewhere below finally silent for the night, and I felt the charge that had been building since the restaurant, since the bridge, since three uninterrupted hours of a man looking at me like I was the only fixed point in a city built to distract him, settle into something neither of us bothered pretending we didn't both feel.
"No radio tonight," I said, working the clasp of my necklace loose, watching him in the low light instead of looking away. "No gate. No toddler two rooms over asking for a third glass of water. Just us, for once, with absolutely nowhere else either of us needs to be until morning."