You Are Never Kneeling Here Again
Every window was lit.
Cars lined the curb up and down the block, expensive cars, and music was pouring out of the open windows into the night, and through the tall front windows I could see people, a crowd of them, Julian and Chloe moving among their guests with glasses in their hands, laughing, entertaining, hosting a party in my house as though the afternoon had never happened.
They had not packed.
They had not left.