He looks down at his hands, then back up at her. “Sure.” He leans into her, a clumsy kiss that lands on the side of her mouth. “I’d love that.”

Outside it is cold. Inside, the room glows, golden. Time is somewhere else. She could live here, she thinks—in this moment—she could love this man.

Hannah

SHE IS GRATEFUL TO GET HOME, BACK TO THE FLAT—GRATEFUL for these in-between days—between Christmas and New Year’s. The pendulum has stopped swinging, time has stalled and pooled, and she is here, held in the lees of the year. Still, she feels restless. There is something rising in her, some itch, some need.

She starts buying wine. She drinks most evenings, one glass, then another. The sales are on and she goes back to the clothes shops in Covent Garden, where she buys the boots the color of blood and the dress that is covered with creeping vines.

On New Year’s Eve, she dresses for herself in the dress and the red boots, and puts on music and dances, turning slow circles in the room. She drinks red wine, one glass and then another, and then her eyes fall onto a pouch of tobacco Nathan left. One cigarette. What would be the harm? She slides out the papers—black licorice papers—and rolls herself a cigarette. She lights it from the stove, then steps outside onto the terrace, where the air is crisp and a handful of stars are visible in the high, dark sky. She brings the cigarette to her lips, and immediately the taste of sugar paper makes her think of Lissa.

And then, suddenly, the knowledge arrives—hitting her body before her mind. It spikes her blood, makes her heart race, her palms damp.

Lissa.

Nathan and Lissa.

She holds on to the terrace rail, then she throws the cigarette into the park below. She goes back into the flat, picks up her phone and calls Nathan.

“Lissa,” she says when he picks up.

“What?”

“What happened?” she says.

“What do you mean?”

“With you and Lissa?”

He hesitates a moment too long. She holds the phone away from her ear. Feels her stomach heave into her mouth. Hears his voice, speaking to the cold, empty air.

Cate

FOR NEW YEAR’S SHE GETS AN INVITATION FROM DEA FOR dinner, and accepts, since Sam will be working.

We’re going up to the Senate building first if you’d like to come? Dea writes. There are five students still holding on inside. I think they’re freezing. There’s a vigil for them at sunset. Bring a candle and something for them to eat.