nobody seemed to use.
“You were going to own a house with a porch by twenty-seven,” Elise said.
“You were going to redesign Lisbon.”
“A museum in Lisbon.”
“Built out of shipping containers.”
“It was an excellent concept.”
“I still have the drawing.”
She looked at me.
“In the folder with your college things,” I added, too quickly.
“You kept a folder?”
“Someone had to document the containers.”
She laughed, but the sound faded before either of us said anything else. We walked past a coffee shop where we had
