two hundred eighty-five. [Of darkness and truths.]
“You’ve been on the phone with your family,” murmurs Linden drowsily.
Prem flinches. “I was hoping not to wake you. How did you know?”
Linden smiles in the dark. “You get your accent back. Besides, when you’re up in the middle of the night, you’re either talking to your family or watching cricket, and I didn’t hear the tv.”
“You’re good.”
“I’ve been watching detective shows at the Birós. How are they? Your family?”
“Good. Insisting I come for a visit, now that it’s summer.”
“Then you should go.”
“I wish I could bring you.”
(A long silence.)
“…so do I.”
Prem flinches. “I was hoping not to wake you. How did you know?”
Linden smiles in the dark. “You get your accent back. Besides, when you’re up in the middle of the night, you’re either talking to your family or watching cricket, and I didn’t hear the tv.”
“You’re good.”
“I’ve been watching detective shows at the Birós. How are they? Your family?”
“Good. Insisting I come for a visit, now that it’s summer.”
“Then you should go.”
“I wish I could bring you.”
(A long silence.)
“…so do I.”