When the light turned green, I still did not answer.
The cars ahead began to move, and Neil seemed to remember we were still on the road. He pressed the gas again. He did not repeat the question, but “Misunderstand what?” did not disappear. It stayed like a tiny nail, pinned into the distance I had just tried to pull open, catching every time I passed too close to him.
When we got home, Neil carried the grocery bags into the kitchen. Cindy asked if we had found everything she needed, and he said yes. Soon the house settled into the familiar noise of evening.
But I knew that tiny nail was still there.
I helped Cindy put things away. The milk went on the bottom shelf. The eggs went back into their usual slot. The bread and paper towels were pushed near the cabinet. Neil stood on the othe
