For three seconds, neither of them moved.
Clara’s pale grey eyes, clouded with the faint film of six months in the dark, blinked against the lantern glare. She stared at the ceiling beams, then slowly turned her head toward the side of the cot.
Her gaze locked onto Julian’s face.
“Julian...?”
The word was barely more than a scratch of dry air, a rough rasp pushing past parched vocal cords. Yet to Julian, it sounded louder than the rumble of a subway train.
“I’m here, Clara,” Julian whispered, his knuckles white around her fingers. “I’m right here.”
A tiny, faint smile touched the corner of her cracked lips.
“You’re still wearing that terrible Starlight Mart vest,” she whispered, her voice trembling with exhaustion. “Tell me... you didn’t let him pay in cash.”
