For Inej

With his cane in his hand, he feels more like himself again. More solid on his feet. He hadn't seen her since Valentine's Day, mostly because he's been avoiding her. There's only so much humiliation that he's willing to stomach. He might have given her all of the peace in the world, if it wasn't for the fact that he can't stop thinking about the warm press of her mouth on his.

There's a bakery just down the road from Dimera that does small fruit cakes not a million miles away from things she would have liked in Ketterdam. He's got a box tied with twine in one hand so he raps on her door with the head of his cane.

He ignores an uncharacteristic flutter of nerves.