I remember Ryke's voice, low and continuous, not saying dramatic things — saying ordinary things. The weather outside. The diner's menu items. Whether Ziko had eaten since morning. A question about whether I wanted the window open. The specific mundane continuity of a man giving me something to orient around that wasn't the size of what was happening.
I remember Duke in the doorway — he was allowed in because someone needed to be and Duke was the most unobtrusive person the compound contained — with his sketchbook at his side and not open, because he'd made the decision, quietly and without being asked, that this particular hour was not for drawing.
I remember Ziko's voice through the closed door, which Bekah had insisted on, providing what he described as *perimeter support* and what ev
