A pile of newspapers.

The edge of a curtain.

Maya watched without asking me to calm down.

Finally, I sat.

I did not need to make the house look as if nobody had suffered in it before Julian arrived.

He came at the time he had given me.

I saw his walk through the window before I saw his face clearly.

The same slight forward lean, the hand going to a pocket, the moment of hesitation before the step.