“Thanks,” Henry says. “See you on Thursday.”
He shoulders his bag and walks away. He always takes the train home, but this night—the one day he comes to work without an extra shirt in his bag—he decides to spring for a cab. It’s thirty bucks he’d just as soon spend on something else, but it’s not like he’s planning on making this his new routine. He takes the escalator down to Arrivals, walks out to the taxi stand, and takes his place in the longish queue. Shortly he slides into the backseat of a new-car-smelling Prius and gives the driver his folks’ address. The driver does a double-take in the rear-view mirror. He turns in his seat, the better to face Henry, and the question is already half-formed on his lips, but Henry shakes his head.
“Don’t ask.”
* * * *