Far below he hears the door to the apartment building open, slam shut, and then footsteps in the hall, coming up the steps. Without thinking he goes to the door and looks out through the peephole—the hallway curves away outside as if he’s seeing it reflected in a convex mirror, the stairs looming up at him, the walls bending away. He waits, holding his breath. Please, he prays. It’s selfish and childish but right now he wants Dane here with him, here. Please.
Only it’s not his lover, it’s the girl next door, and Krish turns away from the door, angry. “Fuck.”
The word hangs in the air around him. He wants to say something to make it disappear and can’t think of anything else, nothing but f**k so he says it again. Then, because he’s mad, he kicks at the table where the phone sits, hard eno
