I shake my head again and again, answering a question he hasn’t asked me. “You hurt?” he says the same time that I blurt, “You look good.” “What?” “What?” Realizing what I just said, I quickly blurt out, “I mean you look healthy. No. Fit. I mean . . . you don’t look injured even though . . .” I point lamely at the missing wall. “The battle . . .” My voice trails off.
