“Then go be clear,” he replied. “Don’t stretch something just because it’s been easy.”
I nodded once. “I’m about to head out.”
Marcus stepped toward the door, giving the space one more look. “This is good, though. You finally letting it be what it’s supposed to be.”
I followed his gaze. “It’s getting there.”
He opened the door.
“See you tomorrow?” he asked.
“No doubt.”
We finished our goodbyes with the expectation that we’d see each other for Sunday dinner. He stepped out, letting the door close behind him. I stayed back and stood there a second longer, looking at the room like it might answer something for me if I stayed long enough. Then I grabbed my jacket and headed out, pulling down the gate behind me. This time it cooperated, but I wasn’t in the mood to celebrate.
I knocked, then slipped my hands into my pockets, settling back on my heels like I expected the door to open right away. It didn’t.
The hallway sat quiet around me, the low volumes of someone’s television bleeding faintly through the wall across from her place and footsteps passing somewhere down the corridor that faded just as quickly. I shifted my weight once, then again, listening for movement on the other side of the door that didn’t come as fast as it usuallydid. By the time the lock finally turned, I had already registered that something felt off.
The door opened just enough at first, then wider, and Kendra stepped back without the immediate joy radiating from her core that she usually led with. No smile that reached her eyes. No light comment to ease me in.
“Hey,” I said, straightening.
“Hello,” she replied, her tone even, already turning away from the door as she moved back into the apartment.
I closed it behind me, slower than I needed to, taking in the space before I followed her. The place looked the same, but it didn’t feel the same. The kitchen lights were off. No pots on the stove. The living room lamp cast a soft, contained glow that left the room cast in shadows, like she had chosen exactly how much of this space she wanted to hold tonight and nothing more.
Kendra had already made it back to the couch, one leg folded under her, a glass of wine resting in her hand by the time I reached her living room, and it didn’t look like the first pour.
I stayed near the entry to the living room for a second, my hands still in my pockets, taking her in.
“You good?” I asked.
She glanced up at me, her expression composed, not closed but not inviting either.
“I’m good,” she said. “You?”
“Yeah,” I answered, easing into the chair across from her instead of the space beside her.
“Busy week?” she asked, bringing the glass to her lips.
There was no accusation in it, but it didn’t land like a casual check-in either.
“Yeah,” I said, leaning forward slightly, forearms resting against my thighs. “I’ve been at the Archive most days.”
“I figured,” she replied, lowering the glass and setting it lightly against her knee.
I nodded, rubbing my thumb along the side of my index finger, a habit I didn’t think about until I caught myself doing it.
“I finally started going through everything I picked up at the auction house,” I said, leaning forward a little, my hands coming together loosely as I settled into it. “There were a couple long boxes I didn’t get to really look through out there. Stuff that didn’t look like much on top.”
She watched me, quiet, letting me get there.
“EarlyHero for Hireruns,” I continued. “Luke Cage before they figured out what he was supposed to be long term. A fewJungle Actionissues that still had some life in them. And tucked in the back of one box, a first-printHellblazer. Not pristine, but clean enough that somebody knew what they were holding on to when they kept it.”
Her brows lifted slightly as she registered what I’d said.
“That’s not the kind of thing people just let go of,” she said.
