(Cole)
Aaron was already up when I came downstairs.
He had coffee made and his bag near the door and the particular settled quality of someone who had already made peace with leaving before the morning started. That was Aaron. He never dragged out goodbyes. He arrived fully and left the same way.
"You sleep?" he asked.
"Enough," I said.
He handed me a cup without being asked and leaned against the counter.
We didn't say much for a while. The morning was quiet and neither of us needed to fill it. That was one of the things the weekend had given back. The ability to be in the same space without performing anything.
His phone rang on the counter between us.
He looked at the screen.
Then he looked at me.
Something in that look told me everything before he said a word.
"It's Mom," he
