My fingers grew numb from holding the window sash open, but I couldn’t bring myself to close it.

Finally, the rear door opened again.

Jonathan stepped out onto the pavement, his face pale and set in a hard, grim line.

He did not look back at the car as the door slammed shut behind him.

The limousine pulled away instantly, its tires throwing up a spray of dirty slush as it merged into the Brooklyn traffic.

Jonathan stood on the sidewalk for a moment, staring at his feet, before he turned and walked back toward my building.

I closed the window, locking the latch with a sharp click that vibrated in my chest.

I walked to the hallway door and waited, my hand resting on the brass deadbolt.

A moment later, I heard the heavy, rhythmic sound of his boots ascending the wooden stairs.

I turned the lock and opened the door before he could knock.

Jonathan looked up, his eyes bloodshot and his lips blue from the cold.

“Are you alright?” I asked, stepping back to let him enter.