Prologue

TTHIS MORNING I woke and remembered her, and went to the window to look out into the leafless garden, leaning my forehead against the cold winter glass.

Flynn.

I whispered her name.

Flynn – one single, flighty syllable, the teeth flicking the bottom lip and the tongue expelling a breath of warm air. The window clouded with a small patch of mist. And then it faded away.

Flynn: she was graceful and intense, beautiful, serious. I remember when we lay together for the first time and I closed my eyes and felt the crackle of her dark hair between my fingers. She was all warmth and sparking light. When I was with her, my skin sighed that the centre of the world was precisely here. Nowhere else.