The second hand of the apartment's minimalist wall clock seemed to advance with the leaden, suffocating weight of a blade buried deep into wet ice. The atmosphere between the two skaters had grown so thick and toxic that the cold midday air, bleeding into the room through the open balcony, felt like a flurry of frozen needles piercing their skin. Jake held Bek's black leather boot firmly against his chest with his left arm, while the fingers of his right hand locked with such violent force around the damaged titanium screw that his knuckles had turned entirely white, draining of all color.
