He pivoted his torso only as much as necessary to face her, managing to form a tiny, contrite smile. Anything larger hurt too much. “Sorry. I wake you?”
“No.” She scrutinized him from between slitted, bald eyelids. “What were you doing?”
“Just went for a walk.” Another swallow of coffee.
“Where?”
He was beginning to remember why leaving hadn’t been as difficult as it might have been. He finally turned all the way to her, leaning against the front of the sink. “Nowhere in particular. Just couldn’t sleep.” Inside his skull, a marching band began drill practice.
Вы ознакомились с фрагментом книги.
Приобретайте полный текст книги у нашего партнера: