This was her home and she walked the halls and made her way through the space unimpaired, the expansive layout committed to memory. It was sleek steel and glass, brutalist concrete, with expressive sculpture and modern works of art on broad canvas that elevated the room. The scenes thick and layered, a topography of brushstrokes she could trace with her hands.
The kitchen was as new as when it was installed, the industrial restaurant-ready appliances pristine; she didn’t cook. She didn’t clean. The great room with its floor-to-ceiling windows opened onto a roof-top patio larger than many apartments in the Lower Fens. It was the great room that felt the most lived in. Here was a clash of texture; from the spacious sectional with shag rug, fur throws, and blankets ready for nesting.
On the patio, in the cooling evening air, she prepared in the twilight, lit from the bright interior. Billy would be here soon, and then they could begin.