“I gathered.”
“You can keep the espresso machine.”
“I don’t know how to use it.”
“You press the only button.”
“There are lights.”
“You perform in front of twenty thousand people.”
“They don’t require descaling.”
Claire laughed once.
Then covered her mouth.
For a few seconds, we were still us.
The version that stayed awake in hotel rooms mocking instructional videos.
The version that ate pancakes after award shows.
The version that could turn an appliance into a three-year dispute.
Then the laughter ended.
Claire lifted the box.
I took it from her.
“You don’t have to carry this.”
“I packed it.”
“I can still carry it.”
She let me.
We walked to the front door.
Two more boxes waited in the hallway. I had not noticed them when I came in.
A set of new keys rested on top.
Claire pressed the elevator button.
“Is someone helping you?”
“My sister is downstairs.”
“Emily knows?”
“Yes.”
“How long?”
She gave me a tired look.
