[Dulwich. Saturday.]
She slept on a while with her hand flat on my chest, and I let her, because there was nowhere on God's earth either of us had to be and a man ought to know when he is well off.
By the time we'd surfaced and found the kitchen it was gone half twelve, and the flat was humming with a sound I'd been hearing through the whole long morning without once letting it in.
The phones.
Both of them, face down on the kitchen island where we'd dumped them the night before, buzzing themselves an inch across the granite with every fresh hit, on and on, a pair of wasps trapped under a glass.
They had been at it since six in the morning. They were not going to stop for a week. I just had not been listening, because for one whole morning the world had shrunk to a flat in Dulwich and the woman in it, and now the world was back, and it had been trying the door the entire time.
