The gate agent who had tried to push us out stood by the jetbridge door, his head lowered, holding it open in silent, embarrassed submission.

I didn’t say a word to him.

I didn’t need to.

The world had already delivered its lesson, and adding to it would only have made it about him, when it had never been about him at all.

Chapter 22 — The Place

The late-afternoon air was thick with salt and damp sand and blooming jasmine as our rental pulled up to the small coastal inn above the Atlantic.