Are you scared? Afraid? she asked. I look at you, and I see fear. Maybe it’s an anxiety you got. It’s like you don’t want to be here. You want to be somewhere else. A thousand miles away. Maybe Texas or Pennsylvania. You’re just not here, Paula looked at Mike, his head down, looking at the metal table. She pushed a coffee cup towards him. He pushed it back. You don’t want any? he shook his head; gray hair tossed. I don’t know what to do with you. I don’t know what to do. She buttoned her morning coat. Limped over to the counter and poured another cup of coffee. Sure you don’t want any?

No.

Go get some sleep.

Can’t.

Why?

Not tired.

Paula took a sip and added cream.  The paper should be here. That boy comes later and later, it seems.

I like to read the obituaries, Mike said. See whose ahead of me. Or, maybe I’m ahead of them. They both laughed. I’ll take that coffee now.