I nudged the plastic cup closer to her hand.

When she finally left, the velvet box stayed behind on my kitchen table.

At seven the kitchen radiator started knocking, and Enzo hollered up the stairwell that it did that every October and not to worry about it.

“Your pipes are singing,” I called back.

“Better than a landlord does,” he said, and his laugh rang through the stairwell.

An unopened reserve duty notice lay by the door.

I put it on the table and opened the velvet box.