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I hadn’t known it was clenched until I read the message, but when I relaxed it, the relief was considerable.

Sloane: Lunch. Something containing more than one food group.

She’d attached a picture of a fairy sitting in front of an empty bowl.

YOU HAVE BEEN VISITED BY THE NUTRITION FAIRY. IGNORE HER AND YOUR HEAD WILL HURT.

I saved the image.

The next day, she reminded me to stretch after I mentioned hauling lumber. The day after that, she told me to step outside for five minutes and get some fresh air.

Hudson: I’m already outside.

Sloane: Are you fixing something?

I looked at the fence post in front of me.

Hudson: Maybe.

Sloane: Doesn’t count.

Hudson: The fresh air is the same.

Sloane: Not when you’re working on a project.

I put down the hammer and walked to the edge of the property. For five minutes, I stood under the trees and did nothing. It was uncomfortable until it wasn’t.

Hudson: That was nice.

Sloane sent a celebratory GIF of a cartoon cat wearing a party hat.

Sloane: See? It’s not the worst thing in the world to take a break from work.

Hudson: You’re right. I watched the ridge, the same one in my profile pic. Sometimes I shift on the ridge trail since it doesn’t get a lot of use. I enjoy the seclusion.

There was a long pause.

Sloane: I like seclusion, too, when I give myself a break from work.

Her check-ins continued, arriving with humor, little reminders woven into the messages. I began looking forward to them more than I should have. They meant she had thought of me. Sometimes early in the morning. Sometimes during her workday. Sometimes right before bed. Every notification carrying her name gave me a small lift before I even read the message.

Late at night, our conversations moved away from practical things.

She told me about the books she loved. She preferred stories where people built lives for themselves rather than discovering their futures had been destined.

I told her I liked woodworking because there were rules to it. Measurements. Grain direction. Pressure. Patience.

She sent me a photograph of a sketch she’d made while waiting for a client call. It showed a row of old storefronts, loose lines becoming windows, signs, flower boxes, and people moving along the sidewalk.

Hudson: You’re talented.

Sloane: It’s just a sketch.

Hudson: That doesn’t make it less good.

She didn’t answer immediately. Then:

Sloane: Thank you.