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Taking out his leftover soup, he stirred it carefully, resetting the timer to zero. He was trying not to think about the woman again. The corrosive fear that had bathed his muscles had abated enough for him to eat. At the table, where he'd arranged his placemat, napkin, and sparkling water, he stirred his soup again, telling himself to stop thinking about her. She'd threatened him with a crossbow for chrissakes. But then, in a few short words, she'd told him part of why she had: grief. Her sister had died, and the woman had been there, clearing out the space, dealing with her sister's things on her own.

Presumably, she'd been holding back her feelings. Mo hadn't seen any signs that the woman had been crying. But she'd been alone there in the night. Maybe in a place with which she's unfamiliar. She heard noises, someone coming in. And she grabbed a weapon to protect herself.

After running a hand down his beard, he leaned over and started eating his soup, going over the encounter in his mind. It was interesting that she didn't hide. Mo didn't know she was there until she was right on top of him. She didn't wait for danger to find her; she went out and faced it.

He thought of Maddie. God, she'd be like that when she got older. She was already headstrong enough. He had trouble trying to balance teaching her to maintain her courageous streak when she should, but also to be cautious for her own safety. He picked up his phone and opened his messaging app to return to their earlier conversation, taking another spoonful with his left hand.

Diana:

Hi again Daddy (it's Maddie)

It always made him chuckle when she texted that. Like his ex-wife would write "Hi Daddy." But that was Maddie, always making sure he knew it was her talking. Which Mo appreciated. He knew Maddie didn't realize it, but he kind of felt like he was intruding on Diana's privacy, with Madison having to use her phone to talk to him. Madison had recently turned twelve. Maybe it was time to revisit the discussion about getting her her own phone.

Mo: 

Hi Sugar Plum. Getting ready for bed?

Diana: 

Yep. Just wanted to say good night.

Good night. Sleep tight.

Don't let the bed bugs bite.

Love you.

Love you too.

He checked the time. They'd finished texting hours earlier, before he'd had his life threatened. She'd be well into dreamland by now. And Diana herself hadn't contacted him, so no sign of nightmares, either. He finished his soup and cleaned up. He could hear that the TV was on in the other half of his duplex. Mrs. Sargysan sometimes fell asleep before turning it off. He carefully made the rounds of each plant in the living room, adding a little water where needed. He checked the soil on his orchids, even though he'd done it the day before and knew it was too soon for water. Lights off downstairs. He went to Madison's room and flicked on the light. Everything was as it should be. Her desk was tidy. At her bed, he smoothed her yellow- patterned bedspread and fluffed her pink pillows. He went over to the peace lily on her dresser and ran his fingers over the leaves to remove any dust. Standing in the doorway again before turning out the light, he surveyed the room and smiled. The riot of color in her room matched the joyful, silly riot of energy that was his daughter. She'd wanted to liven up his bedroom with bright colors once but had quickly understood that Daddy needed a visually quiet space. His was perfect for him and hers was perfect for her. She knew he checked on her after she'd gone to sleep during her weeks at his house. She said it made her sleep better knowing that he did. What she didn't know was that he couldn't relax without his little routine of making sure that everything was right in her environment even if she wasn't in it. Especially on a night like this when he'd been flooded by his own painful emotions and those of someone else.

It was a little past eleven by the time he finished his shower. The very hot water and vigorous massage cycle usually helped clear out any negative energy from the day, but tonight it wasn't enough. He wasn't thinking about the woman in specifics anymore. He was just weighed down. While he was washing his hair, he'd made the mistake of putting himself in her shoes, imagining what it might be like to lose one of his brothers. And to have to touch, to pack away their personal things alone. At night. The pain that the woman might have been feeling flashed through his body, and it almost knocked him to the ground. No wonder her reaction to his presence had been so strong.

If she had, the woman's choice to confront him with a weapon in hand made sense.

He needed to get to bed. Get some sleep and let his mind reset. When he picked up too much from people, sleep was a good way to let go of emotions that weren't his own. Crawling under the covers, he ran a hand over his beard and groaned.