Peter the valet stared at the pavement until they drove away.

He has parked my car for six years, and he stared at the pavement.

At three fifteen Julian texted and asked me to come by his building so we could talk like grown-ups.

I went.

The lobby on Ashbury smells of the candles they light at six.

He stood between the mail table and the elevator with his hands in his pockets.

“You made a scene,” he said.