“Does it change anything?”
“It changes something.”
He nodded and carried the empty regulator box toward the office.
That was all.
No advice.
No suggestion that Annie deserved another chance.
I appreciated him more when he was irritating in limited doses.
At ten, a couple arrived for a refresher course. At eleven-thirty, I spent fifteen minutes explaining buoyancy to a man who believed his previous instructor had been “too focused on physics.”
At noon, Rosa sent over two sandwiches and a note:
ONE IS FOR HANK. THIS SHOULD NOT REQUIRE SUPERVISION.
I gave Hank the smaller one.
He inspected the filling.
“Yours has more turkey.”
“Rosa’s decisions are final.”
“You chose first.”
“I manage operations.”
“You manage injustice.”
We ate behind the counter while Captain Pancake moved between us, presenting himself as a neutral party in a disagreement involving bread.
My phone remained silent.
Normally, Annie would have sent something by then. A strange lamp. An offensive carpet. Rachel attempting to replace a meal with packaged oats.
I checked the screen once.
Then again while pretending to calculate tank inventory.
At twelve-thirty, I placed the phone in the drawer beneath the register.
Hank watched.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“You have a face.”
“I have several.”
“That one is angry at an object for failing to receive a message.”
“It is in a drawer.”
