After we hung up, I remained in the car until the anger became too heavy to sit with.
Then I drove.
I didn’t know where I was going.
I simply moved through the city because moving felt better than thinking.
Eventually, I found myself parked outside a diner I used to visit when Sarah and I were still married.
The place had cracked red booths, terrible coffee, and a waitress named Marlene who somehow remembered everyone’s order.
I sat alone near the window.
Marlene poured coffee into my cup.
“You look like somebody stole your dog.”
“Worse.”
“Wife?”
“Already lost one of those.”
She gave me a look.
“Job.”
She stopped pouring.
“Oh.”
I nodded.
“Today?”
“About an hour ago.”
“What happened?”
I told her.
Not everything.
Just enough.
When I finished, Marlene stared at me.
“He fired you because you helped somebody?”
“Pretty much.”
She shook her head.
