By October, Jonah and I had managed two weeks without speaking.
I thought the silence was useful. It let me work, sleep, and go an entire morning without checking my phone. Then Diane called to say she'd hurt her wrist in the restaurant and needed someone to drive her to an appointment.
"I can ask Jonah," I said.
"He's covering lunch."
"You can ask someone else."
"I know." She sounded embarrassed. "I shouldn't have called you."
"I can take you this once."
"Are you sure?"
"Yes. But only because you need a ride. Not because everything's fine."
"I understand."
I drove back to Bellwether the next morning. Diane was waiting outside the Tideglass with her arm in a sling.
"You shouldn't have come all this way," she said.
"I was passing through."
"From Ashport?"
"More or less."
I to
