February Sun

Tommaso

I trailed after Paige to my car and unlocked it as she grabbed the handle. She seemed different after therapy today. I’d seen a lot of versions of her walk out of that office, but this one seemed the most at peace. I slid into the leather front seat of my car and turned it on.

“How was it?” I asked.

She snorted. “You know, that’s really not how therapy works.”

I couldn’t help it. I laughed. She looked up at me in surprise.

“So, after a week and a half, you’re the expert?” I said.

“More than you. You’ve never even been to a session.” She shook her head, still smiling, and stared out the window. The February sun cast her features in sharp relief. “If you’re gonna make me tell you, it was good.”

“Good,” I said.

She laughed then began adjusting settings on the radio.

“What are you doing?” I asked.

“You said I was in charge of the music.” She found an old rock-’n-roll station blaring a screaming guitar and turned it up. “I’m tired of pop.”

I laughed and pulled out of the parking lo