Michael looked at me.
I shook my head slightly.
He said, “The proposed expansion was never the status quo.”
Another pause.
“No,” Crane admitted.
That mattered.
She continued.
“My client has legitimate business and marital rights. I would strongly caution both sides against conduct that could later be characterized as punitive.”
Michael answered evenly.
“We agree completely.”
Then Crane said the most revealing sentence of the week.
“That is rather what concerns my client.”
Not something I had done.
What I might choose not to do next.
Laura was frightened because the dependable machinery had stopped.
We agreed to a Friday meeting.
After the call, I looked at my hands.
Steady.
My chest felt hollow.
At 7:15, Laura texted.
Please don't do it.
I read the sentence three times.
The absence of certainty was strange.
Laura texted like she spoke.
Complete thoughts.
Definitive punctuation.
This message sounded unfinished.
I did not answer.
Michael watched me set the phone down.
“Go home.”
“I don't know where home is right now.”
He softened slightly.
“Then go somewhere quiet.”
I drove to a gas station off Northwest Highway.
Bought coffee.
Did not drink it.
Sat in my truck watching moths batter themselves against fluorescent lights over the pumps.
At 9:44, the phone rang.
Laura.
I let it ring four times.
Answered.
Said nothing.
“Greg.”