I woke at three thirty in the morning.

The loft was still, and the silence pressed gently against the windows. Only the distant hum of the city stirred. Beneath my sheets I remained motionless, eyes open, staring into the grain of ceiling shadows. The echoes of yesterday circled slowly through my mind. I thought of legal notices. I thought of boutiques freezing orders. I felt again the anxious flutter that had lived beneath my ribs since the first cancellation.

I had cried. I had accepted ...