He ran because he knew he had to do something in order not to be a blob of a human, and to exercise Pebbles. He wasn’t interested in an art class. His work was art, in a way. When he was a kid, his mom had put him in gymnastics to burn off some of his toddler energy, and he kept at it for a few years. But that wasn’t something an adult could take up (the idea of him doing handsprings in the park . . . no). He’d played Little League baseball until about seventh grade, when he quit for the robotics team (dork). He hadn’t played sports in high school, but had done Model UN (super dork).

To Google he went. Hobbies for men. Leather working, out. Microbrewing, out. Guns, no thanks. Too loud, plus he didn’t see himself ever shooting anything. Archery maybe? That could be cool. Woodworking . . . nah. Furniture making? In college, he had been sought out as one of the few who could assemble IKEA furniture without direction. Might he have a talent for woodworking? The smell of wood, the satisfaction of a table made by his own hands?

But where would he do that? Would he have to buy a bunch of saws and power tools? Too much trouble.

He called Sarah. “Hey,” he said, belatedly realizing she was at work. “You busy?”

“No, no. What’s up?” Of course she was busy; she was a social worker for the state.

“Um, well, this is out of the blue, but . . . I’ve been thinking of taking up a hobby.”

“That’s good.”

“I just don’t know what to do.”

There was a silence. “Do you want me to suggest something?”

“Yes?” Why had he called her? He should’ve called Jen, who knew him better.

“Okay. Well, I take karate classes.” That’s right, she did. She used to come over before class sometimes, because Lauren had gotten a real kick out of it (pun intended), seeing her in her karate getup. “Why don’t you come to a class and see if you like it?”

“That would be great. Thank you.”

“Okay, I’ll text you my schedule and talk to my sensei.”

Couldn’t she just say teacher? Why did she always annoy him? “Thanks, Sarah,” he said, aware that she was doing him a favor.

“You’re welcome. Gotta go.”

GREEN DRAGON SCHOOL of Kenpo Karate was in a strip mall over in Federal Hill. Sarah met him there, already dressed in her black uniform, which was cinched at the waist with a black belt.

“Wow,” Josh said. “You’re a black belt?”

“No, Josh, I’m just wearing this because I like the color.” She rolled her eyes, then kissed him on the cheek. “Come on in. Sensei’s expecting us.”

“Does Sensei have a name?”