Fragment #76 - On the edge of a sharp knife

I’m sitting in the sofa, the file in front of me on the living room table. I don’t dare to touch it. It looks like a bomb to me. What’s in there? This question occupies all my thoughts. It’s going in circles in my head. I don’t even see Steve coming back from work, although I hear him. He drops his bag and keys by the front door, and comes and sits next to me.
“Hello you.”
I kiss him. “Hi… how was your day?” Steve lays down in the sofa.
“Hum, it was ok. And you?”
I don’t answer. He gets up back up and looks at me frankly.
“Honey? What’s wrong?”
“You see that file?”
“Er, yeah, what about it?”
“It’s the file they found in M. Abou’s house. Mr Dembelé gave it to me yesterday.”
“Ah.” He starts looking at it, like me. The silence falls in the apartment. The only light on is the one in the kitchen and a little one in the living room, right next to the window. I feel safe and, at the same time, I feel as if my happiness was on the edge of a sharp knife: one wrong choice, one wrong step, and all is destroyed and lost forever.