The Crate in the Parking Lot
And my daughter, sitting on a floor with a notebook open on her knees, said: “October 2013.”
I did not say anything.
She turned pages for about fifteen seconds.
“It’s not here.”
“No.”
“Dad, you wrote down a wrong number at eleven at night on the ninth of October and you didn’t write down her.”
And I said: “No, I didn’t.”
She sat on that floor for a while.