He will remove his fingers from the keyboard of the ancient lap top. Push his chair away from the desk. Pause for a moment deciding whether to shut it down or just leave it on. The heels of his slippers will slap against the bleached hardwood that he has always considered an extravagance.
“Bruce!” she will yell one more time before he reaches her.
“Yes?”
“Where were you? Didn’t you hear me calling?”
At the end of her outstretched arm, an empty coffee cup.
John's Writing 