Peter shoved the duvet aside and rummaged inside his bag for one of Cooper’s old T-shirts. The pits of the old white crew neck were yellowed. He pulled them to his nose, inhaling the sweet tang of Cooper’s body and longed for it to be his. He sat there for a while, with the coarse crust of the carpet at the soles of his feet, nuzzling the T-shirt just so Cooper’s presence wasn’t entirely missing from the room. After a while, Peter put it on and made his way into the front room where he sat quietly at the kitchen table waiting for first light to crest over the hills above town.

The clock made itself heard again. It broke into the apartment like a cat without any invitation and sat behind Peter in the kitchenette where it ticked constantly, pestering him for attention. Peter huffed. He’d take the battery out next time it did that. See how you like it, then.

Sunlight struck the snow on the rooftops across the street from the apartment and Peter lifted his arm up to catch Cooper’s scent. But the smell of his body on the cotton had already started to fade, so he gently slipped it off, careful to fold the armpits well inside the middle of the garment, and stuffed it under his pillow for safekeeping. Peter placed his hand across his bare chest, running his fingertips down across his nipple. But they were too soft for him to make-believe they were Cooper’s and suddenly the tender coarseness of those hands seemed harder to remember.

The person in the apartment next door coughed then cleared their throat. Rushing water followed. But it wasn’t coming from a tap. Peter stared at the wall and the sound of pee splashing into the toilet bowl on the other side echoed behind the plasterboard.

A minute passed, or maybe longer, Peter wasn’t too sure, when the neighbour’s toilet flushed and the tick of the clock crept back in.

Ticking.

Always ticking.

This was its final warning now. But there was something else in the apartment calling for his attention. Something stronger and even more persistent. Cooper’s rucksack. Peter stared at the rucksack and the rucksack stared back.

The main compartment was stuffed full of Cooper’s clothes. But not the side pockets. And the rucksack had plenty of those. A dozen little compartments with room for a dozen zipped-up secrets. Peter ran his teeth over his bottom lip and the word Timberdark seemed to strain beneath the rucksack, teasing to be found. Anything could be in there. A plan. A map. The location of a government building Cooper planned on targeting.