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Nora brought me a sandwich from the kitchen.

Havoc complained that I stacked the glasses wrong, then showed me the right way.

Saint asked whether I wanted to join them for dinner.

Ace told me he had already moved my truck beneath the covered parking area because a storm was coming.

Nobody asked whether I was staying.

They simply acted as if I was.

By the time the tavern closed, my feet hurt more than they had after a twenty-mile march.

Trigger counted the register.

Wolf checked the locks.

Nora turned off the lights one section at a time.

I carried a trash bag outside with Max beside me.

The storm had passed without reaching town. The air smelled like rain, even though the pavement remained dry.

Main Street was quiet.

The lights above the tavern sign cast a warm circle across the porch.

Max sat beside me.

“You had a good day.”

His tail moved.

“You made more money than I did.”

It moved again.

“That isn’t funny.”

The door opened behind us.

Wolf stepped onto the porch.

“You leaving?”

I looked toward my truck.

For three years, my keys had remained in my pocket while I slept.

I always wanted to be ready.

To move.

To disappear.

“No,” I said. “Just taking out the trash.”

Wolf nodded as if it were the most ordinary answer in the world.