“You know, you used to listen to me? I used to be the only one who seemed to get through to you, and I loved that I could. I loved that we had that bond. What’s happening to us, Mimmo?” Arrick hasn’t moved from the chair by the dressing table; instead, he’s leaning heavily on it and regarding me sort of wistfully, unfazed by my half-naked change of clothes a moment ago. His voice is soft, his face seems sad, and I hate that he’s making me feel guilty again. That pang of something ...