"At six o’clock, just as she did every morning, even though it was still black as night, Anja shut the front door and braced herself against an unforgiving subzero, the kind of cold to put a person into shock, before descending the outdoor steps. The new security light guided her down, then clicked off parsimoniously as soon as she reached street level. Freshly fallen snow glittered beneath a dim streetlight; elsewhere, the darkness lay deep. It was windless, almost silent.
As she tucked the neck muffler into her zipped-up tracksuit, poking at it with oversized mittens, Anja observed the basement studio. Shutters down and lights out, as usual. Her five-thirty message had clearly failed to raise him.." Read more...
