Francesca descended from the top floor.

Julian had left the apartment impeccably tidy, scrubbing every trace of his presence clean. And yet, a faint, lingering intimacy still clung to the air.

Whitey lay sprawled across the sofa, its dark, round eyes tracking Francesca's every move.

She walked over and gently stroked the dog’s head.

Sinking into the cushions of the sofa, she sat in utter stillness for what felt like forever, deliberating ...