SWALLOWING THE LAST mouthful of pad thai, I toss my fork into the plastic tub. “It doesn’t make sense.”
Elisa sits cross-legged on the carpet, relaxed, head tilted, thinking intently. The coffee table between us is decorated with the empty containers of our dinner.
I muted the TV when Elisa arrived rather than turn it off, leaving it on for the weather forecast. I don’t want to get caught in another downpour like Monday. Once was enough, thanks. The current story is about a condemned asylum building in the next suburb. I didn’t even know there was one around here. The idea of it is rather sad. Probably a lot of history there. Not good history either.
Elisa sips from her wine glass. She doesn’t say anything, so I keep talking. “According to Candy, three of Mackenzie’s assistants have lef
