Chapter 31
With a weary sigh, Trin crawls out from under the workbench and hauls himself to his feet. He rubs his eyes with grimy hands and glances at the clock that hangs above the bay doors. An ancient beer ad lit in neon buzzes intermittently above red digital numbers. He’s surprised to see it’s late—later than he thought, almost midnight. He’s been here for hours, and suddenly his legs cramp from being folded under the workbench, his arms ache, as if just knowing how long he’s been sitting makes his body hurt. No matter—he’s not going to his room, not tonight. Let him sleep alone,Trin thinks. A small defiance but all he has. He wants desperately to believe that one night apart will be enough to make the gunner come running to him tomorrow.