HE GAVE HIS MISTRESS MY PADDLE. HE FORGOT THE AUCTION HOUSE BELONGED TO ME

a tan and a box of chocolates from an airport shop.

He kissed my cheek.

“Toronto was miserable,” he said.

“I’m sorry.”

“Sloane saved the presentation.”

“I’m sure she did.”

He studied me.

For a moment, I wondered whether he could see the difference.

The quiet was no longer passivity.

It was the silence of a blade being sharpened.

“The Halcyon dinner is next Thursday,continue reading …