Roman called while I was debating cereal, not a text, a call, I let it ring once to remind myself I had a choice, then picked up, “hey,” he said, soft, normal, as if we were already in the habit, “I won the vote, lost a friend, ate the sandwich, how was the send-off,” I leaned against the counter and told him the truth, “good, brave, small,” we didn’t fish, we traded clean sentences, “I’m glad you went,” he said, “I hate men who require tests of loyalty they won’t take themselves,” “that’s a long sentence,” I said, smiling into the dark, “I’ve been practicing,” he said, then let a silence sit without turning it into a performance, “sleep,” he added, “tomorrow you’ll fix three things before lunch and act like you didn’t, I’d like to believe you intend to rest,” “bossy,” I said, “accurate,”
