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Dialing with a keypad is strange now, but some patterns your fingers remember.


“It’s me,” says Hester.

“Oh. You okay?”

“Can’t believe you still have this number.”

“They let you keep it when you transfer.”


“I’m in town,” says Hester.

“That’s great,” he says. “I’d love to see you, but look, this week…”

“You don’t have to say it.”

He doesn’t.

“I called out of courtesy,” she says, “so if we ran into each other, you’d know.”

“Maybe lunch.”

“Okay,” says Hester, “if there’s time,” and her fingers start to pick again at the fraying cuff of her shirt.