We walked down to the cafeteria because the coffee machine in the pediatric wing had been broken since Tuesday and neither of us had slept.

Rebecca bought two cups and set one in front of me.

I wrapped my hands around it and didn’t drink.

“Whoever wrote that note knew your schedule,” she said.

“Deployment rotations are public, but not that public.

Someone was watching your return date.”

“My husband knew my return date.”

“Your husband doesn’t write like a woman who dots her i’s with little circles.”