“They changed the hours last month,” he said, closing the car door with a sharp metallic click.
The sound of the door shutting seemed to seal the conversation, leaving me standing in the driveway with more questions than answers. The silence that followed was heavy and cold, stretching between the two of us like an unbridgeable gulf.
Julian began walking back toward the porch, his shoulders hunched against the cool breeze. He did not wait for me, leaving me to follow his shadow up the wooden steps.
I followed him, the flashlight beam bouncing off his heels, noting how his usual steady stride had turned into a hurried, uneven march. My silver wedding band felt cold against my skin as I gripped the banister.
Back inside, the kitchen was quiet save for the soft hum of the refrigerator. Julian sat at the cedar table, his silver laptop already open, the screen casting a pale blue glow over his tense forehead. The smell of cedar oil still lingered, but it no longer felt comforting.
