(Cole)
Lena was quiet for the first few minutes of the drive.
Not the anxious quiet from earlier. Something different. The kind that came after something so large had happened that words hadn't caught up to it yet. She sat with her hands in her lap and looked out the window and I didn't try to fill it.
I was doing my own version of the same thing.
Three.
I had walked into that appointment prepared for one. Hoping for one. Ready to be grateful for one. Now I was driving back through Atlanta with that number sitting somewhere in my chest I hadn't found the edges of yet.
"Say something," Lena said eventually.
I glanced at her.
"What do you want me to say?"
"Anything," she said. "You've been quiet since we left."
"So have you."
"I asked first," she said.
"Three," I said simply.
Sh
