What Was Actually There
The restaurant was quiet on a Thursday evening — a narrow, warm space with low lights and tables spaced widely enough for privacy, the kind of place where you could speak without being heard. He was there when she arrived. Again, early. She was beginning to understand that being early was not consideration but character — he operated ahead of things, always, as though running slightly behind was a failure of a kind he didn't accept.
She sat down across from him.
"Thank you for coming," he said.
"You said that last time," she said.
"It keeps being true."
They ordered wine — just wine, and then food, because the conversation was better housed in a meal, and they both seemed to understand this. For the first ten minutes they talked about Daniel. This was safe gro
