I have no clue what we used to talk about. Did we ever have things in common or was I delusional? I can’t think of a single thing to say to him that doesn’t include the Gatorade or our phone call from last night. Oh, duh! “What a nice spring day it is,” I say wistfully. We pass a window and it’s pouring outside. Tree limbs fly this way and that. A small tornado tosses screaming livestock here and there. “Yep. Nice,” Ian says with a knowing smile.
