“She can’t keep getting away with this,” he said to himself, standing outside the front door.

How could he not have seen this coming? How did he not see any of the signs?

He sighed, steeling himself, and opened the door.

“Surprise!” everyone yelled, a “Happy Birthday!” banner behind them all.

He watched her walk away and get on the train. She found a seat on the side closest to where he stood on the platform. She found his eyes and smiled a small, sad smile as she waved at him through the window. He waved back.

If they never saw each other again, at least they saw each other.

The window was open, the sound of a few birds interrupted by the occasional rumble of a car driving by. It smelled like rain outside.

She glanced out the window and saw her neighbor step outside with an umbrella that was comically too small, one surely meant for a child.

She ran to grab hers.

She drove, window down and wind in her hair. The summer sun was warm and inviting, slowly setting, making the road in front of her glow with light.

She might not ever go back. The wind whipped her hair around her head, one moment a tangle and the other a halo. She smiled.

She kept driving.

They stood back to back, the tension palpable. Wind whistled over the hills and brought with it a chill that matched the coldness between them.

“You brought this on yourself,” he whispered.

“Good,” the other replied.

They began to count to ten, taking a step away with each count, ready to turn.

Mr. Groff slid the folder across to him.

“I need it by Monday,” Mr. Groff said, already standing up to leave.

“Today’s Friday, and already 4:45,” he said, taking the folder.

“Your powers of observation continue to amaze me,” Mr. Groff said, leaving the office.

“I hate this place,” he mumbled.

The door was locked, so she walked around the side of the house and peered in a window. She didn’t see anyone.

“Eli?” she called, hands cupping the glass to see better. “Hello?”

That’s when she saw him. Vacuuming and wearing big headphones, dancing as he cleaned, happy and oblivious to the world.

They walked together in comfortable silence.

They knew each other well enough to be content in it.

She hummed as she gathered her things. She never hummed, but here she was. Humming.

Her bag was ready, so she walked to the bus stop. Still humming, as absurd as it sounds.

When she stepped off the bus and saw Alex waiting for her, a smile lit up her face that made the humming much less peculiar.

“I hope you’re well.”

It wasn’t a lie. But he also wanted to say, “I think of you every day,” or, “I wish we could try again.”

He shook his head. He wrote what he thought most: “Why didn’t you say anything? Why didn’t you talk to me?”

He erased it.

“I hope you’re well,” he wrote. “I really do.”

She clutched at her hat as a gust of wind threatened to blow it off. It was too windy for a picnic, but the feeling of grass in her toes and the sound of waves lapping against the coast were enough.

A seaplane took off from the bay, seagulls racing it for a few seconds before it left them behind.

He huddled by the fire pit, feeling its warmth against his cold fingers. Sarah had gone inside to get a hot drink.

He heard the deer before he saw it, a rustling in the brush behind the house. He looked up and saw its eyes reflecting the firelight. He smiled. Hopefully Sarah sees it from the house.

“The stars are bright tonight,” Leah said.

“They’re always the same brightness, sometimes there’s just cloud coverage or light pollution,” Eva said.

Leah rolled her eyes, seeing Eva smiling. “Feeling pleased with yourself?” she asked.

“Very much so, thank you for asking,” Eva replied cheerily.

She drove, window down and wind in her hair. The summer sun was warm and inviting, slowly setting, making the road in front of her glow with light.

She might not ever go back. The wind whipped her hair around her head, one moment a tangle and the other a halo. She smiled.

She kept driving.

“What if we gave it away?” she said.

“To who?” I teased. “Who on earth would want it?”

“You never know!” she said, laughing. “Someone must!”

“Bet you 3 points no one will take it.”

“You’re on,” she said.

We had made hundreds of these bets over the years. No one knew the score. It didn’t matter.

“Is this real?” he asked.

“No,” it replied gently.

He couldn’t take his eyes off them. They laughed, she clung to his arm, life teemed from them.

“Can…” he started. “Can it be?”

It smiled softly. “It could have been. Not anymore.”

He nodded. He hadn’t thought so.

“But maybe something similar.”