“All that,” he agreed, already moving toward the front door.
She watched him go.
The Evening She Had Been Postponing
The house was quiet after he left.
She stood at the kitchen counter for a moment, looking at the space where he had been standing.
Then she picked up her phone and opened a group message thread she had not used in far too long.
“Is the plan for tonight still on?” she typed.
The replies arrived within seconds.
Of course it is.
We have been waiting for you.
Tonight is long overdue.
She looked at her reflection briefly in the darkened screen of her phone.
Then she touched up her lipstick, picked up her bag, and walked out her own front door with her head up.
She had not done that — just left, without explaining herself, without arranging anything around his schedule or his preferences — in longer than she could accurately calculate.
It felt remarkable. And then it felt like the most ordinary thing in the world.
The Table That Was Always Waiting
