I thought I’d see her around over the weekend, but nothing. I thought about calling her, she’d been on my mind nonstop, not so much because I was addicted to her, although I was starting to think that maybe I was, but because of the way we’d left things. I couldn’t shake the memory of the despondent look on her face when we’d left each other. I worked through the weekend, more for something to keep my mind off her than because I had to. I fumbled around the marina, always keeping one eye on the library. They closed early on Saturday and weren’t even open on Sundays, so I knew Saturday would be my only chance to see her, but I never did. Nor did I see her car. I thought she was working Saturday mornings for Claire, but apparently not. Or maybe she’d called in. Suddenly, I was worried something was wrong. I quickly snapped myself out of it, though. Kat was a big girl who made her own decisions and didn’t need a babysitter, or a stalker. Tuesday night I ran into the local restaurant to order takeout.
