A low laugh crackled through the speaker. Sam’s laugh. The one that always sounded like he was letting you in on a secret. “And you’re getting faster at answering. Progress.”
“Before midnight.”
“To return your mail.”
The call ended. The courtyard went quiet. And somewhere across the gap, a shadow moved behind a lit window—a hand lifting in a small wave. sammmnextdoor
“What do you want, Sam?”