4:10

Rowan sat on the couch and sipped the glass of cold water Gareth had fetched for her. Her fingers left patterns in the condensation on the sides of the glass, and she spun it in her fingertips, drawing spirals that quickly disappeared, the moisture coalescing into drops that ran down the sides and then soaked into the beer coaster as she set the glass down.

She glanced up at the art on the walls of the tiny living room. Ink sketches framed in cheap cardboard mattes that they had obviously been bought in and a small watercolor of a coastline with the requisite waves and sailboat. Rowan wondered about that one. As far as she knew Gareth had never been within a thousand miles of the ocean and she certainly didn’t picture him as the sailing type, all avast and avant and hoisted aloft. Sailor-speak was probably the only thing more ridiculous than her southern drawl.

On the shelf by the kitchen was a collection of small figurines. She leaned over and observed that they were the animal figures her mother had once said came from Red Rose tea. A few were worn and old looking, but to her surprise quite a number looked new. She stood up and moved to the shelf unit to have a closer look. As she did, she detected the faint scent of tea. Rowan picked up the tiny beige owl and sure enough, it had tiny granules of black tea stuck to its base.

As Gareth came into the room she turned to him. “I didn’t know they still made these things. I thought they were all my grandma’s age.”

Gareth stopped, looking a bit confused, and then his eyes came to rest on the collection of figures and he smiled. “Ah, you’ve discovered my secret.” He walked over to stand by Rowan and gazed down at the motley group of animals and assorted odds and ends. Rowan was suddenly conscious of the scent of Gareth as it mixed with the faint tea. “I started collecting them when I was just a boy and my grandmother gave me this one to try to keep me quiet.” He picked up a small brown monkey. “They’re Wade figures. They have been giving them away since the ’60s. I don’t have the complete collection, but I’m working on it.”

He turned to look at Rowan and grinned sheepishly. “They remind me of Gramma.”

Gareth turned back to the living room and flopped bonelessly on the ugly forest-green easy chair. “So, what do you want to do now?” he inquired.