told myself a lot of small, practical things, the kind you repeat when you’re trying to pretend you’re not already tired.
Outside the glass doors, just to the right where the marble wall met the concrete, a woman sat with her back pressed hard against the stone. As if the building might lend her a little of its stored warmth. As if leaning into something solid could keep the cold from pushing her out of the world.
She was bundled in a thin sweater that looked like it had been
