Kate:
Evie says hi. And that you’re invited to her birthday.
Three dots appear right away.
Cam:
I’llbring a gift.
Kate:
She said baseball cards.
Cam:
I figured. What about you—how are you?
I stare at the question. It’s harmless, simple, nothing dramatic. But it knocks something loose because no one ever asks me that without expecting a bright answer I don’t have energy to give.
Kate:
Fine. Tired.
Cam:
You never say good. Always fine.
Kate:
Fine is still good. I just know I need to clean the kitchen and pick up the living room before bed and I have no desire to do so.
A short pause, then:
Cam:
You’re allowed to be tired, Katie. You don’t have to hold it all together.
The words land heavier than I want them to. I press my lips together, trying to seal in everything that rises to the surface.
Kate:
It’s easier this way.
Cam:
Easier doesn’t mean better.
I don’t answer. I can almost see him—waiting with that steady patience that makes me feel seen in a way I’m not ready for.
My thumb hovers over the keyboard, indecisive. I could reinforce the boundary. Keep us where we agreed. Pretend it doesn’t matter.
Kate:
Goodnight, Wells.
The bubbles appear, disappear, then return again.
Cam:
