Ace is distant today. But, he checks up on me nonetheless—he peers at me from across the room, his eyes lifting up over that red book, which I notice he reads quite often. When I meet his soft gaze, his irises lock me out, fluttering away as though he hadn’t just been looking at me, as though his hands weren’t just crawling inside. I sit curled up on the leather sofa, reading a novel beneath the gentle sun rays, which bleed in from a nearby window.
