The sentence contained no demand.
No trade.
No request disguised as reconciliation.
For the first time, Arthur had come into my kitchen and left without trying to move me somewhere else.
That mattered.
A week later, Daniel removed the temporary assignment sheet from my desk.
Regular schedule underneath.
“My desk is still mine?”
“Unless you’re returning it.”
“I’m not.”
He pulled a cardboard box from storage.
Inside:
my old brass Army nameplate.
Scratched along one corner.
“You kept this?”
“Records kept it.
I found it.”
He set it beside my blue mug.