chapter 40
JULIAN POLE
By the time the train crossed back into Brooklyn, the world already looked smaller. The skyline was just a bunch of gray teeth again, but the kind I've gotten too used to staring at. I told myself to stop thinking about him somewhere between Queens and Atlantic Ave, but my brain didn't get the memo.
When Marco dropped me off this morning, he told me to text when I got home. He said it in that casual, older-brother way, like he didn't want me to notice that he was checking if I was okay. I did. But a short text. I didn't trust my fingers to say something that wouldn't sound like missing someone I wasn't supposed to miss.
Luka's house smelled like home when I got there. He left the door unlocked, which meant he was either too lazy or too confident that no one in our neighborhood was crazy enough to rob a cop's kid. His mom was at work, and the place was quiet except for the washing machine in the back, turning slow and loud.
