“I’d better pack,” said Todd. “You haven’t packed yet?” giggled Carrie. “Todd, you are the least prepared author we have.”

“Is that a bad thing?” Todd asked. He had a feeling it was. Being unprepared didn’t sound like a good place to be.

“Todd, stay just the way you are,” said Carrie. “You’ll find being yourself is the best protection there is.”

“Protection against what?”

“Oh, you know,” said Carrie. “The cruel tides of fate, and whatnot. Now go and pack! And pack a lot!”

*  *  *

Todd packed. Then he sat next to his suitcase on the bed and waited. For what, he didn’t know. It was only when it began to get dark outside that he stood up stiffly, carried his case downstairs, and went into the front room to watch TV.

*  *  *

When Sara came around that night, she found him, sitting in the dark with the television on.

“You’ll go blind,” she said, turning the light on. Todd blinked but didn’t move.

“Todd? Are you okay?”

Todd managed a smile.

“I’m fine,” he said. “Never better.”

“If this is you when you’re never better, I’d hate to see you when you’re worse,” said Sara. “You look awful.”

“Gee, thanks,” said Todd. He forced a smile. It must have been a poor attempt because Sara all but flinched.

“I thought as it was our last night together that we could celebrate,” she said. “I have some terrible Illinois champagne and a couple of steaks.”

“Illinois champagne? Now you’re talking,” Todd laughed.

“Yeah, did you know that this state used to be famous for its vineyards? Before Prohibition. We used to make some great wines, or so the guy in the liquor store told me. And then they passed the Volstead Act and boom, we never got the magic back.”

“You’re really selling it to me.”

“Well, the liquor store guy did a number on me, so now it’s your turn.”

Todd stood up. He put his hands on Sara’s shoulders, gently.

“Somehow when I’m with you,” he said, “those old gray clouds just vanish.”

“So now I’m what?” said Sara. “The wind. Thanks.”

Todd held her.

“You’re the listening wind,” he said. “There’s a difference.”

She looked at him, curiously. Todd threw back his head and began to quote:

“Where the remote Bermudas ride in the ocean’s bosom unespyed,” he said. “From a small boat, that row’d along, the listening winds received this song. Andrew Marvell.”

“That’s beautiful,” said Sara. “Also,” she noted, “I see that you’re quoting again. It’s been a while.”

Todd realized that Sara was right. He’d wondered if his eidetic memory had gone forever.

“I must have remembered it just for you,” he said. “Now we’d better get that Illinois fizz in the fridge.”

“Yes, sir,” said Sara. She even saluted him.

It was the end of the quiet time.

*  *  *