When the sky had bloomed into a darkening suit, followed by the coldness that shut all windows and put the heaters and fireplace at work in several homes, Annabelle knocked on the study door, fingers fiddling with the edge of her comfy nightwear. Each time she drifted off to sleep, she awoke suddenly, her mind bugged by the questions that accompanied her to the dream.
She had returned home separately later than usual and having texted Sullivan she would find her way through, met the man in the middle of dishing out food. Dinner was too quiet and the lady constructed an apology several times in her mind. Yet none seems the right moment.
Especially since Sullivan himself didn't seem to be in the mood for talking. It made Anna wonder if he was still upset about the whole lunch incident or if it was the issue of his companys product being used in a serial killing and the marketing team's attempt to salvage the situation.
