I liked some of the people.

I liked hearing stories outside our usual routines.

That night, words reached me without attaching to anything.

Christopher stood near the fireplace telling a story that made several coworkers laugh.

He was good at it.

He remembered the moment to pause, the detail to hold back, the small gesture that made an ordinary incident funny.

I had always admired that ease.

Now I wondered whether I was making the cruel mistake of turning everything I loved about him into evidence against him simply because I was afraid.