I remained perfectly still on the crown molding, a speck of shadow watching the messy, predictable theater of the mortal world.
The towel dropped to the floor with a damp thud. I watched Jonathan shuffle back to bed, his movements heavy and concrete-slow; the "undoing" was already beginning to sap his coordination. However, he was too ill-informed to recognize the source. He slid under the covers and reached for the girl, Andria, his fingers splaying across her chest in a desperate, possessive claim.
He was trying to anchor himself. He was trying to use her heartbeats to drown out the memory of mine.
As the sickly morning light filtered through the blinds, I watched the girl stir. She woke with a hazy, fractured confusion, her eyes darting around the room as she tried to bridge the gap
