18: Roller Coasters

Bleary-eyed and exhausted, Andrew stumbled into the bathroom of his Park Avenue apartment in the morning. The rising sounds of morning traffic could be heard faintly through his bedroom windows, accompaniment to the rosy peal of dawn, and the familiarity was both relaxing and annoying simultaneously.

Flipping the lightswitch, he groaned at the stark brightness, and by muscle memory, turned on the cold water. Stooping over the sink, he cupped his hands, splashing the water over his face a few times to help him wake up.

With his dripping hands and face dangling over the sink, he slumped there, eyes closed for several long breaths.

He’d slept poorly. Not because anything significant required his immediate attention, aside from contacting the Trust’s security company and ordering a nightwatchman stationed at Evelyn’s apartment on Waverly, which he’d already done, but because he’d been unable to get her out of his head. Not the florally-clean fragrance that permeated the space near her. Not