It’s not surprising that our drive is taken in silence.
Both of us too stubborn to be the first to speak and by the way Wes is holding the wheel. . . Both of us too angry also.
When we return to Black sunset I expect Wes to just storm off but instead after opening my door he takes hold of my hand. Intertwining his fingers tightly within my own and begins to guide me not back to our floor but to the kitchen.
Once there, he takes a wrapped up plate out of the fridge and begins on the stairs.
It’s only on the landing I recognize we are now on our floor.
Wes releases my hand to open my door before wordlessly beckoning me inside.
Once inside, he locks the door behind him, pulling on it once to check it’s security.
I stand motionless as Wes reveals the contents on the plate, ripping
