When he looked up, I saw Daniel immediately.
Not in his mouth.
Not in his nose.
In his eyes.
In the way he seemed to brace himself as though bad news was something he had learned to expect.
I sat across from him.
Then I placed the watch between us.
Evan stared at it for several seconds.
Finally, he whispered,
“He wore that the only day I ever met him.”
I nodded.
The waitress filled our cups and left two menus neither of us opened.
Outside the windows, morning slowly arrived.
Inside, we sat across from each other with the absence of the same man between us.
And little by little, we began to talk.
