Chapter 6
Andreas tapped his pen against the table, and stared absently out of the window.
It was a bright morning. Absolutely freezing, but the sun was blazing away in a clear blue sky, and if not for the liberal layer of frost in the shadows of the house, he could have mistaken it for warm outside.
It was mornings like this that Andreas missed home the most.
Much as he’d turned his back on his family, he missed Spain. He missed the noise and the chaos during the day, hot and dusty and crowding around all the time—and then he missed the warm afternoons as the sun sank, where quiet rolled in for a few precious hours before the bars opened up and the world exploded out of its own seams all over again. He missed the haphazard way everyone was crammed in, modernity and antiquity all squas
