“I’ll look again Monday.”

Brandon came back from the driveway without the paper.

He picked up his tongs and turned the burgers as if nothing had happened.

“Sarah,” he said, “you’re dripping on the corn.”

I picked up the towel and blotted the front of my blouse.

The beer had soaked into the seam at my shoulder and wouldn’t come out in one pass.

David stepped between us.