Chapter 8 8

Dominic stood on the sidewalk in Astoria. The neighborhood was quiet, a stark contrast to the sirens of Manhattan.

He entered the pre-war building. The lobby smelled of floor wax, old mail, and someone cooking cabbage. It was the smell of reality.

He fumbled with his keychain, finding the rusty silver key he hadn't used in half a decade. Apartment 4B.

He climbed the three flights of stairs. His expensive Italian suit felt ridiculous here, like a costume. The leather soles of his shoes slipped on the worn linoleum.

He unlocked the door. It creaks open with a protest.

The apartment was small. Dusty. Cold. It was a time capsule.

He flipped the light switch. The bulb flickered, buzzed, then stabilized into a dim yellow glow.

Boxes were stacked everywhere. Remnants of his bachelor life. Books, old clothes, kitchenware he never unpacked.

He put his suitcase on the futon. Dust motes danced in the light.

He opened a box labeled "Law School."

Inside, he found a photo. Him and Jesenia at graduation. He smiled faintly. He forgot how happy he looked back then. How light.

He found another box: "Wedding Prep."

He pulled out a piece of paper. A draft of his wedding vows to Evelin.

Reading them now made him nauseous. "I promise to be your anchor... I promise to put you first..."

He crumpled the paper into a tight ball and threw it in the trash can.

He sat at the small, wobbly desk and opened his laptop. He connected to the spotty building Wi-Fi.

He logged into his email. Jesenia had already sent the draft filing. She worked fast.

He read the legal terms: Irreconcilable Differences. Adultery.

He hesitated over the "Send" button. The recipient was Evelin's corporate counsel.

It felt final. A death of a dream. A death of the man he tried to be.

He closed his eyes. He saw Hank's smirk. He felt the sting of Evelin's slap.

He opened his eyes. He clicked Send.

He closed the laptop, exhaling deeply. The weight on his chest lifted slightly.

He went to the tiny kitchen to find water. The pipes groaned and shuddered as he turned the tap. The water came out brown for a second before clearing.

He drank from a dusty mug that said "World's Okayest Lawyer."

He realized he was hungry. His stomach growled. He had left the wagyu steak in Tribeca.

He lay down on the dusty futon, fully clothed. He stared at the cracked ceiling. A spider was weaving a web in the corner.

"Just you and me, buddy," he muttered.

He closed his eyes and fell into a restless sleep.