So, so dark.

Sourdough toast, bacon, a scrambled egg, tall glass of orange juice, coffee. Quick work on the computer.

Every morning, right around this time, I start to feel my heart race. Probably the coffee.

In some ways, I will miss the two of us working together like this.

After the first two, I find my rhythm. I thank them for their help. He tells me he likes the way I do pumpovers: “You’re so clean.” Well, the tanks are clean but my pants are covered in wine.

I forget that there’s no nozzle on the hose and soak myself with hot water. The only thing I can do is laugh.

I laugh some more.

Conference call in the pick-up line.

A glimpse of sunset through the trees. Muted bands of orange and pink and blue layered behind rugged shadowy mountains and trees. “This is why we came here.”

The road twists and turns so much that I worry I will get carsick.

He admits that he was crying because he was scared we were going to run out of gas on the road.

Ice cream while we wait.

“It’s been a long day,” he says.

I ask him a question before realizing his eyes are closed.