The Fall

The verdict came on a Tuesday afternoon when the air in the courtroom hung heavy as wet wool.

Delia had stopped counting the days by then. Eleven of them had bled together into a single continuous moment, a ribbon of testimony and exhibits and objections that wound through her sleep and pulled taut every morning when she woke in the hotel room that no longer felt temporary. Nadia had taken to leaving fresh coffee on the nightstand before dawn, a silent ritual that Delia had come to depend on more than she would ever admit.