Fred never experienced the quiet desperation with which the afternoon dragged on.
For hours he stayed in the library and pretended to be working. His attention was diverted as the sun moved across the carpet signifying the unrelenting march of time.
Expecting to hear Annabel return he kept his eyes on the door.
It hurt like a tiny sharp ache every minute that went by without her key making contact with the lock.
The silence was too much for him. It was seven o'clock in the evening when Fred finally shut down his laptop.
Outside the city was beginning to come alive with the dim illumination of street lamps.
His muscles were tense from hours of forced inactivity so he got up and stretched.
When he entered the living room he was instantly struck by how empty it was. The apartment
