I thought I might catch Ash on the way back home, but he was nowhere to be found. I called Jordan to let him know about the impromptu visit, but he would be gone all day prepping for the show that night, and he wasn’t thrilled. He asked me to try and reschedule, but how does one reschedule with someone you can’t get in touch with? Ash would be at my doorstep and that would be that. As soon as I stepped through the door, I pulled everything out of the plastic bags that had been noncommittally lying right by the front door. I set up the easel and arranged all the paints, pastels, and brushes on one of my wooden TV trays, the closest things I had to a dinner table. I sat on my futon with a cup of hot tea at three, expecting a knock at any minute. Three came and went. So did three-fifteen, and three-twenty-five. I knew I had been stood up, and I was pissed. But I was also tired from my early wake-up and dozed off, snuggled into my afghan. A knock jarred me out of my sleep. I glanced over at my phone.
