Slow Dance

Seventy-One

Cary was used to getting up early and used to drinking coffee.

Shiloh’s coffeemaker was fairly simple. He stood over it, rubbing his eyes. He was wearing his uniform pants again, and his

undershirt. He needed two showers.

He heard Shiloh in the living room.

“I’m making coffee,” he said.

“Thanks.”

He looked up. Shiloh’s mom was standing in the kitchen doorway, wearing a bathrobe.

“Good morning, Gloria.”

She was smiling. Her eyes were laughing. “Good morning, Cary.”

Cary watched the coffee brew. His ears and neck burned.

He poured Gloria the first cup.