Page 24 of Lorenzo

“I’m across the hall if you need anything.”

“Thank you.”

He pauses at the door. “You open yet?”

I look at the crooked sign, the unpacked boxes, and the filing cabinet I still hate.

“Tomorrow.”

“Good luck.”

When he leaves, I turn to Mocha.

“He seems nice.”

Mocha looks up at me.

“Harmless, anyway.”

I take another drink of coffee and move behind the desk.

The chair creaks when I sit. The desk is too high by half an inch, and the window throws a bright rectangle of light across the floor.

Mocha settles beside me, his body pressed close to the side of the chair.

I open my laptop.

The screen comes to life, showing the new business email account and an empty calendar.

Nothing scheduled.

Nothing waiting.

Nothing chasing me.

I put my hands on the keyboard.

“All right,” I say. “Let’s build something.”

Mocha rests his head against my knee.

For the first time all morning, I stop moving.

The office still needs work.

So do I.

I reach down and scratch behind his ear.

“Tomorrow,” I tell him.

His eyes close.

I look at the crooked sign on the window and smile.

“Close enough.”

Another knock sounds against the open door.