“And so you did.”
We said good-bye, and I carried the sweater into the bedroom and hung it in the closet. I went down and made some iced tea and, armed with a glass of it, returned to my computer. Before I started working again, I took a small alarm clock out of the desk drawer and set it for twelve thirty, knowing that I lose all track of time when I’m creating.
The alarm took me by surprise, as it always does when I’m concentrating on my writing, and I made a quick backup copy of my work on a thumb drive—I’d once learned the hard way about computers and hard disk failures—then shut things down and went to clean myself up. As it wasn’t a particularly hot day, I chose to walk to the restaurant, which was on a side street between Juniper and Peachtree only a few blocks from the town house
