I collapse onto my bed, exhaling like I've been holding my breath all day. The mattress welcomes me with the quiet kind of comfort only familiar places offer. My room is dim, the soft gray of early evening curling along the walls, and the rain outside has slowed to an occasional drip from the eaves.
Julia's not home—probably off helping with some film shoot, or on a last-minute errand for her project. She always seems to be in motion lately. I kind of envy it. But for now, I'm grateful for the silence.
