DAISY
The restaurant had quieted down around us.
Most of the other tables had turned over, couples leaving, new ones arriving, the particular rhythm of a Saturday evening in New York that kept moving regardless of what was happening at any individual table. Our waiter had refilled the water twice without being asked. The candle between us had burned down to something low and warm.
Casper had not pressed me after the silence.
That was the thing about him, he asked the question and then he gave me the room that the question required. He did not fill the space with reassurance or backtracking or the particular male anxiety of someone who needed an answer immediately to manage his own discomfort. He picked up his wine and looked at the room and let me sit with what he had asked for as l
