The last day of the week arrived the way last days arrived: when you stopped counting toward them and started counting away from them, which was a specific kind of arrival that Elizabeth had not experienced before in relation to an arrangement she had entered for professional reasons.
She realized this upon waking up.
She realized it as she dressed, as she went downstairs, as she stood in the kitchen waiting for the water to boil, and as she gazed out the kitchen window at the morning, looking at things without actually seeing them, lost in her thoughts instead.
Rex came downstairs twenty minutes after her. She turned from the window when she heard his footsteps in the corridor, a habit she had unconsciously developed around day four.
"Morning," Rex said.
"Morning," she said.
