I sat down in the wooden chair and looked at the blank line under Arvid’s last entry.

By eleven, I was standing in the air-conditioned showroom of the John Deere dealership at the edge of Menomonie.

Green tractors sat under the bright lights, smelling of new rubber and hydraulic oil.

Brad’s office was tucked away behind the parts counter, behind a wall of dark glass.

He was sitting with his boots propped on the corner of his desk, talking into a silver desk phone.

He glanced up when I knocked on the doorframe, and his smile switched on at once.