The thing about decisions made quietly is that they change the texture of everything around them without anyone else knowing yet.
Tuesday morning. The bakery street. Rafael with the coffees. The cool morning that was becoming the standard Cebu weather as the season shifted.
I had decided. I had not told him. I was not going to tell him yet because the decision was mine and I was going to keep it mine for the right amount of time before I gave it away.
But I was different this morning and he felt it.
He did not say anything. He handed me the coffee and we walked and he talked about something Ernesto had said on the phone and I listened with the specific quality of someone who is fully present rather than managing their presence.
After two blocks he stopped.
"What is different?" he sai
