Chapter 181; UntouchableThe city woke before Michael did.That was unusual.He had spent most of his adult life being the first thing awake in any building he occupied, the habit of a man who had learned, in a place where sleep was interrupted by noise and light and the particular unpredictability of other people’s emergencies, to take the early hours as the only reliable privacy available.But this was a Saturday in July.And the apartment was warm.And Layla was beside him.And for the first time in a very long time, Michael Krux had nothing that needed doing before the world started.He woke at seven.Which was late for him.He lay still for a moment.The morning light was already in the room.Six forty-three, it came. Every morning. He knew this the way he knew the river’s moods and the foundation’s rhythms and the specific sound of Layla’s running shoes on the stairs when she came back from her morning run.He knew it because he had been present for it.Every morning.Since May.