When his eyelids finally flip open, he wears a sheepish expression on his face. Slapping his knees, he slowly pulls himself out of the chair. He doesn’t ask to stay the night, and she never offers, their companionable silence enjoyable for the two of them up until a point. One warm afternoon when the snow has melted, hopefully for the last time, they go down to the pond on the edge of Deborah’s property to fish, a perfect, cloudless April day