Franz stood on the front steps and watched the car disappear down the driveway.
The morning was cold. Late winter cold. The kind that bit through his jacket and made his fingers ache. His breath fogged in front of him with every exhale. The car got smaller and smaller, the red of its tail lights fading to nothing, until it turned onto the main road and was gone.
Arianne was gone.
He stood there for another minute. Hands in his pockets. Shoulders hunched. The driveway was empty. The trees along the fence line were bare. Everything looked gray and waiting.
Then he went inside.
He thought about this morning.
He had woken before the alarm. The room was dark, the curtains still drawn. Only a thin line of gray where the fabric didn't quite meet. She was curled against his side, her hand resting on his chest, her breathing slow and even.
He didn't move. Just lay there and listened to her breathe and watched the ceiling slowly appear as the night faded.
