‘I’m just fine. How are you?’ I said primly.
He ignored this question but waited me out. He hadn’t turned all the way back towards me, but wasn’t committed to leaving either. He gestured to two Muskoka chairs that were set up, paint peeling sadly, towards the sloping side of the escarpment. I realized then that he had with him a stylish brown satchel, a shoulder bag in army green, and from it he withdrew a thermos and two cups. Laying it on the grass, he pushed the chairs more tightly together and surrendered into the bucket seat of one of them, his usable arm bumping into the other chair. He smiled at me, and I joined him, offering up and spreading my blanket on our laps like a map stretched between explorers.
I didn’t feel like talking or seeing anyone. He began to talk into the blac
