Robert phoned at seven that morning, before I had finished my first cup.

He wanted to have breakfast at the Greenville Family Restaurant on Main, his treat, and he asked in a tone of voice I hadn’t heard from him since I was a little girl.

He was already sitting in the corner booth, his coat folded on the vinyl next to him, his coffee going cold.

When I walked through the door, he stood up.

That told me more than the phone call had.