Gregory came by the house once, just after dark. My mother saw his car first through the dining-room curtains. Dana had already warned him not to contact me directly, so he stayed on the sidewalk with his coat open and the rain starting again. Porch light on. Hands empty. No performance left. He looked up when he saw me in the front window.
I did not open the door.
After thirty seconds, he set a small velvet box on the top step and went back to his car.
Inside the box was the watch I had given him on our second anniversary.
No note.
No apology.
Just the weight of something returned too late.
