He collides with the new graphic designer while leaving the drawing office, upending a stack of proofs and tripping headlong over a wastepaper basket.
Her name is Sophie and she’s just transferred from some agency in Camden. In six months’ time, he’ll be lying beside her in the milky dawn of a Munich hotel room, with the rising sounds of the city holding them, and the even cadence of her breathing.
He doesn’t want to get out of bed. He just lies there happily on the charcoal carpet tiles, looking straight at her, attempting to decode the lines of gravity.