Alban watched Margrit slide the door closed, astonishment making him thick and slow. He had come in all expectation of finding refusals and goodbyes, and instead had been offered hope. Slow delight washed through him, and he turned to do as he was bade: give her space and time.
Seconds later he settled on the roof across the street, crouching where he could see her apartment windows.
She had not, after all, said how much space.
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