“I can manage being in a room with people I don’t know.”
“That’s not the point.”
“Then what is?”
Her mouth tightened.
“Sometimes you tell stories.”
I stared.
“What stories?”
“About working at the hardware store.
About how we used to shop with coupons.
About making my clothes.”
Those were ordinary memories.
Happy ones, mostly.
“Is that something I’m supposed to keep secret?”
“No.”