There was something out there. Oona had seen it. Jane clasped her hands together as she looked at the table. There were five place settings: two on each side and one at the head, each setting identical to the one beside it—square white plates, their father’s best silverware, delicate crystal wineglasses glinting beneath the glow of an antler chandelier. It was one of the things she missed the most about married life—she loved being domestic, making fancy meals for no particular occasion at all. Now, after four years together, she was left alone in an apartment big enough for two.
