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Chapter 39

As three o’clock neared, I sat down at a nearby table with a tortuous Faulkner novel that I wasn’t sure should be checked out because I couldn’t foresee myself being able to actually read it. I was dark dim damaged distressedly depressed enough.

Promptly at three, Mrs. Warren, dressed in a light pantsuit and sunglasses, made an appearance.

I stood, as gentlemen do.

“How are you?” I asked.

“Good,” she said quietly.

She glanced over to the graphic novel section where Noah sat on the floor, engrossed in something or other.

“Would you like to sit and talk a bit?” I suggested.

She moved her chair so that she could watch Noah as she sat with me.