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all.” He turned back to look at the TV weatherman apologizing for the promise of rain that hadn’t materialized.
    â€œSorry, man, I’m just—”
    â€œForget it.” He scratched at the fur on his forearm. “What happened between last night and this morning anyway? You look rougher than a drunk on payday.”
    â€œThat’s better than I feel.” I rubbed my gritty eyes and gave him the lowdown on Benji.
    He grabbed the remote off the table and pointed it at the TV, silencing it. “Listen, why don’t I get out of here so you can have some quiet?”
    â€œNo way. I’m not kicking you out of your own house.”
    Waving a paw in dismissal, he said, “I’ve got errands to run anyway.”
    Of course he was just saying that to be nice. As tempted as I was to pretend to be clueless to my friend’s need for downtime, my conscience wouldn’t let me. “What errands?”
    His gaze roved around the room, finally settling on a balled-up napkin sitting on the windowsill. “Uh . . . toilet paper.”
    â€œToilet paper—that’s the best you can do?”
    He shrugged.
    â€œHow about a compromise? You stay, but maybe keep the noise down to a dull roar?”
    â€œDeal.” He pulled at the gray patch in his goatee. “Listen, why don’t you go crash in my room? My bed is a heck of a lot more comfortable than that block of cement I’ve got you sleeping on. Besides, it’s like a cave in there.”
    I opened my mouth to protest, but then surrendered. A dark room and soft bed sounded pretty good. “You sure you don’t mind?”
    â€œIf you don’t mind a little mess, it’s all yours.”
    Helping myself to Larry’s bedroom, I shut the door. The smell of kitty litter was immediate and pervasive. It emanated from an open bag leaning against the wall by the closet. In the divorce, Tina had traded her claim to their small house in exchange for custody of their three cats and the Lincoln. Larry said he missed having pets but decided, with his long work hours, it wouldn’t be right to replace them. I guess maybe the smell still reminded him of them. To me, it just plain stunk, but I figured after a few minutes, my nose would stop registering it. At least I hoped so.
    Larry’s bed was nothing but a couple of mattresses piled atop a metal frame, but under the circumstances, it looked fit for a king. Stepping around an empty bowl lying on the carpet beside an unused paintbrush and a bent spoon, I pulled off my T-shirt, then crawled into bed.
    The sheets were a soft flannel and looked clean enough. So was the brown comforter, although a bit threadbare. Finding no pillow, I leaned over the edge of the bed and peered down. Sure enough, I spotted one lodged between the mattress and wall. After yanking it free, I folded it in half to double it and slid it under my head. I pulled the cover up around my waist and lay there on my side staring at the empty computer desk. It was the only clean area in the room.
    When I closed my eyes, I tried to imagine what Kyra might be doing right then. Would they have her in a group therapy session where she’d ramble on about what a horrible husband she’d been saddled with?
    I thought of Benji and the chance, however slim, that he might be medically discharged from the Navy. My cell phone beeped and I knew without pulling it out of my pocket that it would be another message from Danielle, asking why I hadn’t answered her last one and maybe asking if I was really sick or just trying to avoid her. The answer, of course, was a little of both. Restless, I turned from my back to right side, then left, then back again, and finally sat up. A soft tap came from the closed door.
    â€œYeah?” I called.
    â€œI’m running down to Quick Way,” Larry said through the closed door. “You want anything?”
    â€œJust a noose if they’ve got