Cellie's POV
He had not actually left.
I realized this approximately thirty seconds after the supply room door failed to produce the click of a latch catching, which was the sound of a door that had been pulled closed by someone on the other side of it, and I turned from the shelves and found him leaning against the door frame with his arms crossed and the particular quality of attention he gave things he had not finished with yet.
"I said I was going back to work," I said.
"You did," he said.
"That was your exit cue," I said.
"I'm aware," he said.
The supply room had the specific atmosphere it always seemed to have when we were both in it, which was the atmosphere of a room that had become smaller than its measurements suggested. I picked up my clipboard and looked at it and put it back down because pretending to review the inventory count was not a performance I could sustain under the quality of attention he was currently directing at me.
"What," I said.
