I waited.
The handle didn’t move.
Knock. Knock.
Harold looked up from his book.
Neither of us answered automatically.
Grace knocked again.
I smiled.
“Come in.”
Grace knocked again.
The door opened halfway.
Grace stayed in the hallway.
“Do you have a phone charger?”
“Kitchen counter,” I said.
She nodded. “Right.”
Then she left.
Harold looked at me.
“Did that just happen?”
“Don’t scare it away.”
“Did that just happen?”
He laughed.
The next morning, Grace knocked before entering again.
She also asked Harold where the stamps were instead of opening his desk.
Apparently they had been in the kitchen junk drawer the entire time, which felt appropriate after everything we’d been through.
Grace knocked before entering again.
Grace never gave me a grand apology.
I didn’t need one.
She knocked.
And when she forgot once two days later, Harold stopped her before I had to say anything.
