Page 116 of Empty Net

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"Old men specialize."

"You telling me to move?"

"No." He picks up his pen. "You know where you're going."

Everyone is very confident about this.

It is irritating.

I walk to the locker room first. Not Caleb. Not yet. There is one more thing.

Cole is alone at his stall, which means either the universe is being useful or Cole is a man who arrives early when he thinkssomeone else might need the room empty. He is taping his wrist. Mik is not with him. That tells me this is intentional.

"Article didn't run," he says without looking up.

"No."

"Good."

"Maybe."

He looks up then.

"I did exactly what you told me I didn't have to do," I say.

"Make a speech?"

"Yes."

"To who?"

"Caleb."

Cole winces. "Ah."

"Bad speech."

"Those are usually the ones we give when we're trying not to say the sentence."

I sit at my stall. The hip objects. It has a lot of opinions for a joint with limited future.

"What sentence?" I ask.

Cole tears the tape with his teeth. "You tell me."

I hate everyone.

This is not true.

That is part of the problem.

I look at the floor. The logo in the carpet. The skates under my stall. The second biscotti still on my shelf from yesterday because I never ate it after the room learned my life and did not collapse.

"I was scared," I say.

The words are not elegant. They do not need to be. They are the sentence under the speech.

Cole nods once.

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