She texts to say she’s sick and needs to cancel. Secretly grateful.

But I can’t go back to sleep, so I lay in bed with my eyes closed, waiting to feel the light return.

Back to these late nights.

Already time to get him out the door and on our way.

The airport reminds me of KCI twenty years ago. Or Chattanooga today.

He gives us a noncommital wave with his back to us as he walks through security.

Hot.

I just want Patrick Mahomes.

Draft day. Ribs and tri-tip and sausage rolls and wings and pasta salads and salads and brownies and cookies. I wonder what the new guy thinks of us. Hopefully, all good things.

Oh shoot, it’s already after midnight.