The two of them turned into shapes behind the glass.

I wrote the Uber’s plate number on the back of a gas receipt, even though the car was long gone.

Ruth’s garage light went out.

I started the car and drove back to Scottsdale with the manila folder lying flat on the passenger seat as if it might slide off.

On Thursday morning Sarah had coffee and a box of the good croissants waiting on the conference table before I’d even gotten my coat off.

“You didn’t need to do that.”