“Then it's back to the airports,” he adds.
I nod.
He doesn’t tell me I’ve been living the wrong way. He simply stands beside me while I look at a city I’ve technically been coming to for years and never had the chance to come out to see.
The walk back to the hotel feels shorter than it should. Inside the lobby we hesitate near the elevators, neither of us quite ready to end the evening.
“Tomorrow’s your last meeting?” he asks.
“Just one,” I confirm.
“What time are you done?”
“Hopefully before lunch.”
He nods as though mentally rearranging the rest of the day.
“What?” I prompt.
“I was thinking,” he admits.
“Dangerous,” I tease.
“I heard there’s an old bookstore a few blocks from here,” he offers.
“You read more than instruction manuals?” I needle.
“Occasionally,” he allows.
“
