“I am not overthinking,” I said.

“I am trying to understand why my morning routines have suddenly disappeared.”

“Rest today,” he said, walking to the bedroom door without looking back.

“We have guests coming later.”

At two in the afternoon, the cold autumn wind rustled dry leaves across the glass patio table behind the house.

Daniel sat across from me with three thick rolls of architectural blueprints spread flat between our porcelain coffee cups, held down at the edges by heavy stone paperweights.

I pointed my index finger at the red stamped box in the lower right corner of the top sheet.