A teacup clink punctuated the silence. It was approaching evening: the orange light from the departing sun skimmed across the fields toward the west-facing window of the living room. There was a distance between the two couches, uncomfortably separated by a too-small oak coffee table that betrayed a life grown more quickly than its owner knew how to fill it. Sarah set down her tea and went to close the curtains. I asked her not too.