pen.
“What do you want the first day of your next decade to contain?”
She studied the page.
Then she drew a clean line through the final entry.
Not through the initials.
Through the waiting.
Beneath it, she wrote: Stop using someday when we can choose a date.
I took the pen and added the following Saturday, a time, and the museum exhibition we had discussed weeks earlier without ever deciding when to go. Elise read it, then added a note about asking my father whether he wanted lunch afterward.
