“I forgot I had written that.”
“I’ll ask every time.”
He nodded and took the notebook back.
“What else am I supposed to do?”
“There are cognitive exercises.”
“Puzzles,” he said darkly.
“Caleb found an old navigation instrument in storage.”
Interest sharpened his expression. “What instrument?”
“An analog depth gauge. Badly corroded.”
“Can I see it?”
“After the brace comes off.”
“Why?”
“Because you will try to repair it with one hand.”
“That is an insulting assumption.”
“It is historical evidence.”
He leaned back against the cushions.
“What about a film?”
“Choose one.”
“I don’t know what exists anymore.”
“We can browse.”
“That requires decisions.”
“A documentary?”
He sighed. “Something about boats.”
I found a quiet film about restoring traditional wooden ships.
Noah lasted eighteen minutes.
His eye closed. His head tipped toward me, corrected itself, then drifted again.
I did not move.
The third time, he allowed his temple to settle against my shoulder.
“Is this okay?” he murmured.
“Yes.”
