The windows of the loft were open, the breeze doing its best to draw out the smell of snuffed candle wax that continued to linger around the dining table. Ian had lit, then doused, re-lit and extinguished, then completed the process yet again, and each time the ghost of wax had left a stronger presence. It didn’t bode well with the already strong odor of fish. He’d chosen salmon, since tuna had been the only meat product he’d seen in the apartment, then worried if the color of the flesh might seem too strange for Cole and picked out a milder perch as well. While his research into the intricacies of autistic-based disorders had been short, he did learn that a disruption in routine could cause severe anxiety. So if fish was Cole’s preference, he’d decided that fish it would be, then spent th
