Steven stepped into the apartment, dropped his duffel bag by the door, and collapsed onto the sofa.
He lay back against the cushions and stared at the ceiling for a moment, letting his body register the fact that it was done moving for now.
He was hungry. But the hunger and the tiredness were currently in direct competition, and the tiredness was winning by a significant margin.
Though the kitchen was twenty feet away, it might as well have been in a different building.
He lay there for another minute, negotiating with himself, and eventually reached a compromise. He would eat. But he would allow himself exactly this much time on the sofa first, without guilt and without anything that required him to think.
He closed his eyes briefly and he let his mind drifted without direction.
It went to Hannah age their conversation, the same way it had been doing in the background since he pulled out of the parking lot.
