It went through ten years line by line looking for the entry that didn’t reconcile.

The two years of the phone.

The stopped conversations.

The Tuesdays — because it had been Tuesdays, hadn’t it, the late ones, and I hadn’t put that together until I was in the back of a cab on Route 9 and there was nothing else to think about.

A trip to a conference in Rochester in October that I had never asked a single question about.

The way he’d started showering when he got home.