“Nobody’s sending you home.”

“Will you write the letter for my reenlistment packet?

The one from the post sergeant.”

“Sunday. After church.”

He left at twenty past six and cut across the lawn instead of using the sidewalk, so nobody on the duty roster would see him come off my walk.

Salas had a shoebox on the diner table at nine, and my coffee was already waiting.

“You didn’t have to buy,” I said, sitting down across from him.