I followed Stephen through the sliding glass door, the sudden quiet of the balcony swallowing the din of the party. Inside, Miss Kagame's voice, sharp and self-satisfied, was still detailing the specifics of her friendship with Celeste and how they had to repay each other's kindness, also, the tinkling of glasses, the swell of laughter was now silent. Out here, under the cold, silent scrutiny of the night, only the air and the distant sounds of the city remained.
"What did she show you?" I asked, my voice low. I moved to stand beside him, resting my elbows on the rail and looking at the side where he is standing, leaning forward with his arms leaning on the balustrade.
He didn't turn. He just gave a chuckle that held no humor. "My death," he finally confessed, the word dropping into the silence like a stone.
