Quiet American Book Novels & Stories

He simply allowed the moment to stretch until it became uncomfortable. Until someone else spoke first. Tonight that someone seemed to be me. “What do you want?” I asked. Aaron considered the question. For a brief moment it looked like he might give a serious answer. Instead he walked slowly toward the table near the window and glanced down at the open book resting there. “You read late,” he said. “That is none of your concern.” His fingers brushed lightly across the edge of the page before he closed the book. The simple movement felt strangely intrusive. “You prefer quiet,” he said.