He told me the next morning.
We were in his kitchen, the elaborate breakfast spread on the island, the city humming below the windows.
"I have a conference," he said. "I'll be away. Possibly longer than a week."
I reached for a honey butter croissant. "Oh. Where?"
"New York." He drank his coffee. Offered nothing more than that.
“When are you leaving?” I said.
He looked at me. Something in his eyes I couldn’t read. “Today,” he said. "Someone will cover my lectures."
I nodded. Took a bite. Looked at the city through the glass.
I felt the information land in my chest and said nothing about what it did there.
When it was time for me to leave, he kissed me goodbye. It was brief. I noted the tension in his shoulders, in his eyes, and said nothing about it.
Roman took me back to campus
