She wondered how long she had been at the Moonlite, and if Josh was worried about her. She worried more about his worrying than she worried about him. At the same time she felt a victory inside herself that Evan was real, that he was sitting in front of her, that there was some confirmation that he had existed and had worked at her office.

The man sat up straight, widening his shoulders, a gesture simultaneously receptive and defensive.

Laura came by the table and poured them both coffee. Diane ordered lunch. Laura drew a picture of a cow skull on her notepad, using her finger and a small pot of ink clipped to her pad. It was a detailed picture that took her a few minutes, while Evan and Diane patiently waited for her to be done, and when she showed them, they both agreed it captured the beauty and impermanence of physical life.

Before heading back to the kitchen, Laura said, “I’m sorry, dear, what did you order again?”

“Just the coffee,” Evan said. “Thank you.”

“You have pretty eyes,” Laura said. She didn’t know why she had said it. She also did not believe in free will, but that is not important to mention.

“Me or him?” Diane said, jokingly, although she did want to know.

“What, dear?”

“Which of us do you mean?”

“I don’t understand.”

“Did you mean me or Evan?”

“Who’s Evan, dear?”

Diane looked back to Evan, but he wasn’t there.

“You came here alone, Diane. Just a few minutes ago.”

There was only one coffee cup on the table. Only one place setting. The Naugahyde chair across from her was empty and pushed snugly under the table.

“Never mind. Thanks,” she said.

Laura turned to leave, her branches swinging through the empty air where Evan had been.

Diane breathed with effort.

She looked where Evan’s eyes would have been. She could not recall what they looked like, but she could guess their approximate location. She did not see him appear. He was just there again, matching her gaze. She wanted to look away.

“Focus,” he said, visible again.

“This is hard for me.”

“This is hard for me too. Almost no one remembers me. Not even back where I’m from. But you do. You remember me. I need your help, Diane.”

Diane gripped her coffee cup hard. She thought of the last time she’d talked with Josh, and she let that anger carry her through the strangeness of the conversation.

“You don’t just get to ask me for help. I don’t know you. You show up at my office. You insinuate yourself into my memories and then you vanish from my life. You keep vanishing even now.”

“It’s not something I can control.”