There was a pause.
There was nothing more to say after that. I didn’t tell my husband the neighbor’s name.
I didn’t tell him the pliers were still on our counter.
And I sure as heck didn’t ask if he still missed me, or if he noticed the difference between silence and distance.
Later that afternoon, I finally picked up the pliers, slipped on a pair of sandals, and walked two flights down. Jake’s door was slightly ajar.
I hesitated, then knocked lightly.
