I take out Cleopatra’s bracelet and the folded napkin I have stored in there all those years.
I put the bracelet in my pocket, throw the napkin in my kitchen sink, and search for a lighter.
I stare at the three letters on it.
The three letters Emily wrote on it when we were in Paris together. She was the only person I ever trusted with my heart, and she faked it all.
I should be mad, angry, feel something. But I don’t. I feel so detached from it.
So I hold the lighter to the napkin, and it burns with an orange flame until nothing but black dust remains.
I open the tap and flush it down the drain.
I stare at the empty sink for one moment.
It is done.
It is finally done.
I glance around in the studio.
Somehow, it doesn’t feel like home anymore.
It feels like the last piece of a dissolving artifact.
I take out my phone.
“Where are you right now?” I ask Shaw.
“In my car outside your door.”
“I’ll be right there,” I say, and hang up.
I walk out the door, take one glance back, and then close the door to the studio.
It is time for the future.
22
REID
PLAYLIST: DREAM ON – AEROSMITH
She slips into my car not a minute later after we hung up.
“Drive,” she says very efficiently.
Um…
“Where?” I ask.
“79th,” she says.
“It’s out of your radius,” I say.
“Yes, but I am with you, and you will want me to go there.”
“Do I?” I ask because I am done with surprises for a lifetime.
