That was why, when I saw him trying to stifle his sobs in the fire stairwell, I felt a pang of sympathy. The sound was heartbreaking. I quietly placed a pack of tissues near him and walked away to give him dignity.
The next day, he rang our doorbell, holding Joseph's hand and a plate of cookies.
Claire and I were both surprised, though her reaction was impatience. She'd just stepped out of the shower, wearing nothing but a loose bathrobe. Running into a male neighbor while half-dressed was hardly decent.
Colin had turned beet red. He hurriedly set down the homemade cookies and fled, ignoring my polite attempt to keep him—as if he were the one being violated.
I wasn't good at socializing, but the cookies were clearly made with care. Guilt and courtesy compelled me to invite him over for a meal later that week.
My intention was simply to return the favor. I never expected it to be the catalyst for them to start exchanging glances right under my nose.
I remained silent the entire drive home. The car pulled into the garage, darkness swallowing us.
In the elevator, Claire tried again. She pressed the watch box into my hand.
"I picked it especially for you, Ruby. Please, stop being angry."
She was a pragmatic woman. For her to go to this extent meant she was either truly sorry—or trying desperately to cover her tracks.
The elevator lighting was clinical and bright. I looked down at the velvet box.
Something caught my eye.
A single, short strand of hair resting against the plush interior.
I plucked it out. Not mine. Not Claire's long hair.
As I brought the box closer, a faint scent assaulted my senses. Not new leather or metal.
Cloying. Familiar.
The same cheap cologne Colin had started wearing recently.
Bile rose in my throat. I gagged, dry-heaving as the realization hit like a physical blow.
"What's wrong?" Claire's voice was laced with concern, her hand reaching for my shoulder.
Ding.
The elevator doors slid open on the tenth floor.
I didn't answer. Shoved past her, stormed into the hallway. Fueled by a rage that blurred my vision, I marched to the apartment next door and hammered my fist against Colin's door.
"What are you doing?!" Claire shrieked, grabbing my arm to drag me back.
But it was too late.
The door swung open, and a face appeared—rosier and healthier than six months ago.
"Ruby, you're back..."
Smack.