nt door at last.
I walked back toward the kitchen with my trench coat draped over my arm, my mind already calculating the minutes.
I had exactly eighty minutes before the system launch, and my tablet was five feet away.
I hung my trench coat on the back of the pine chair and reached for the heavy wooden cutting board inside the lower cabinet. The kitchen was cold, the heat from the apartment unit only just beginning to rattle through the floor vents. On the counter sat a paper cup of lukewarm black coffee costing four dollars, bought from the stand downstairs, now half-empty and cold. I set three thick carrots and a bunch of celery on the counter. The metal blade of the chef’s knife made a steady, hollow thud against the wood.
Douglas stood near the refrigerator, his shoulder pressed against the door frame. He watched the knife move through the celery, his arms folded tightly across his chest. He had not shaved, and the dark stubble along his jaw made him look older than thirty-six.
“We need to keep the grocery bill down this month,” I said, keeping my voice level as I worked. “The six hundred dollar maintenance bill for this Ninth
