Chapter 10
An Unexpected FriendshipJune knocked on Harrison's apartment door carrying two sandwiches.
"I made too many."
"You live alone."
"I know."
"So you intentionally made too many."
"Exactly."
They ate lunch on the balcony overlooking the courtyard.
Children rode bicycles below while birds gathered near the fountain.
"You've changed," June observed.
"I have?"
"When you first moved here, every conversation ended with the past."
"And now?"
"Now you ask people about themselves."
Harrison considered that.
She was right.
He had spent decades speaking only to memories.
Now he listened.
June smiled.
"I think Margaret would approve."
"I hope so."
She looked at him carefully.
"You know... if two old people happen to enjoy lunch together occasionally..."
"Yes?"
"...it doesn't have to mean anything dramatic."
Harrison laughed.
"Good."
"I've had enough drama for one lifetime."
"So have I."
Neither called it dating.
Neither needed to.
Sometimes companionship arrived quietly.
Like spring.
May you like
Like forgiveness.
Like afternoon sandwiches shared on a balcony.
