He came down our row. He stopped at the empty seat on Caleb’s other side.
“This seat taken?” he asked.
Caleb looked up at him and grinned.
“Yeah,” he said. “It’s yours.”
Ray sat down. Caleb reached over and took a donut out of the box without asking. Ray swatted his hand. Caleb took a second one.
I looked down the row at the two of them, arguing over chocolate glazed, and then I looked up. Past the banner with the handprints. Past the metal beams and the old caged lights.
Up high.
I’m not someone who believes in signs. David was. He used to say the universe was always waving at us, if we’d just bother to look.
The lights flickered. Just once. Probably the old wiring. Probably nothing at all.
Caleb noticed. He looked up too.
Then he looked at me, and he lifted one hand, just a little, toward the ceiling.
