Page 9 of His Reckoning

“That’s a bold assumption.”

“You don’t strike me as someone who spends a lot of time staring at a blank page.”

I glance at the closed laptop. “You’re a writer.”

It’s not really a question.

She sighs. “Yes, you knew that.”

“And your process is narrating what’s going on around you.”

“That was a onetime thing.”

“Earlier, you narrated about my living room.”

She points at me. “You were eavesdropping; you weren’t supposed to hear that.”

“I walked into my own apartment, and you were talking to yourself.”

“Fine. Whatever. It’s called brainstorming.”

“Out loud?”

“Yes.”

I consider that. “Interesting strategy.”

She leans forward slightly. “You know what’s interesting?”

“What?”

“You’re very calm for someone who just caught a stranger, who’s living in his apartment, insulting him.”

“You’re not a stranger.”

Her eyebrows lift. “Oh?”

“You’re Melissa’s friend.”

“That’s a very thin layer of familiarity.”

“Still technically familiarity.”

She studies me for a moment. “You’re not nearly as intimidating as Melissa made you sound.”

“That sounds like a compliment.”

“It’s another observation. I like to understand the people I’m living with.”

“That makes it sound like you’re conducting an interview.”

“Maybe I am.”

I fold my arms loosely. “Should I be concerned?”

“That depends.” She leans back in her chair again.

“On what?”