Shatterday

Then he left.

Novins walked back to the window and stared out. The last remaining daylight shone through him. Dimly.

When the maid came in to make up the bed, she found the room was empty. It was terribly cold in the room on the forty-fifth floor. When Peter Novins did not return that day, or the next, the management of the’ Americana marked him as a skip, and turned it over to a collection agency.

In due course the bill was sent to Peter Novins’s apartment on Manhattan’s upper east side.

It was promptly paid, by Peter Jay Novins, with a brief, but sincere note of apology.