After he hung up, we looked at each other and laughed shakily.

How strange that a ringing telephone had become enough to change the temperature of a room.

He reached for the toast he’d abandoned.

“I think I’m waiting for disaster even when nobody’s predicting one.”

“So am I.”

We decided to mention it at our next counseling appointment.

Neither of us wanted worry to swallow every quiet moment we had worked so hard to recover.

That afternoon I found him on the porch watching Sadie draw chalk squares across the sidewalk.