You choose jeans, a soft gray sweater, and the pair of shoes you can move quickly in if you need to. You dab concealer over the mark on your cheek, not because you want to hide it forever, but because you want control over when it gets seen and by whom. Daniel is still asleep upstairs, one arm thrown across the bed like a man who believes night erased what he did in the kitchen.
You move through the house with the strange calm that comes after fear burns itself down to purpose.
