This was also par for the course. Laura’s parents had met on literally the first day of college, when they got roped together as lab partners in their mandatory dissection class. Laura’s dad taught in the biology department, not the psychology department, and his area of specialization was smaller: hummingbirds. But her parents’ fascination with feathered creatures drew them together, and after falling in love, they quickly got married in order to get back to their labs and keep working. They were a strange combination of total commitment to each other mixed with utter disinterest in the other’s daily whereabouts or activities. If you asked one about the other, they would look around and shrug if they weren’t immediately in sight, and almost as quickly forget the question. When they ran into each other around the apartment, or even on campus, they would start talking as if they had literally been in the middle of a sentence not two seconds earlier, rather than hours or even days apart. It wasn’t a very traditional marriage, but it worked for them, even as it confused everyone else.

“And Grandma?”

“Great,” replied her mom shortly. There was a pause. “I’m fine, too, thanks for asking.”

Laura rolled her neck from side to side and then all around, trying to prevent herself from tightening up. “That’s good to hear, Mom. How’s work?” This was a safe question to ask, and Laura and her brothers had learned early on that the best way to deflect their mother was to ask her about her work. For her brothers this had led naturally to their own teaching careers, but though Laura had been a strong student, she’d never loved sitting in a classroom.

“Excellent,” replied her mom. “One of my grad students is up for an award, and we got funding for another remote camera. Plus Morris and Ethel have a new clutch of eggs, it’s very exciting.”

Morris and Ethel were a four-year-old bonded pair who lived on the roof of their apartment building, in an aviary her mother had had since before Laura and her brothers were born. Pigeons mate for life, and Morris and Ethel had raised several sets of chicks together. Her mother had once witnessed Morris literally bringing Ethel a flower while she sat on their eggs. Admittedly, Ethel had eaten it, but still, couple goals.

“That’s awesome,” said Laura. “Look, I have to go now, but I’ll email you the new address. Say hi to Dad for me, alright?”

“You’re still not going to change your mind about grad school?” asked her mother incredulously, ignoring Laura’s clear desire to end the call. “How do you know the fire wasn’t the universe’s way of telling you to come home?”