We traded stories until rain softened into a steady whisper.

Then Meredith asked what I feared most about our future.

I could have made a joke.

Instead, I said, “That we’ll stop talking again because everything looks fine from the outside.”

She set her glass down.

“Then we should make a rule.

If one of us feels the other drifting away, we say it while there’s still time to do something about it.”

“Even if the conversation ruins a perfectly pleasant evening?”