When she caught a cold, he arrived with soup and fresh sheets, humming absentmindedly as he wiped the counter while chatting. The cloth moved in easy circles. She said to herself: What a considerate habit. This thought passed like weather—pleasant, unremarkable, not yet a forecast of what was to be.
Things between them sped up with her promotion. It came with a brutal commute. Her flat was a train and two bus rides from the new office; his was only three stops and a leisurely stroll away. “Come stay here until you find your bearings,” he suggested, careful and practical. It sounded as sensible as carrying rain boots when the clouds darkened.