There’s a gentle laugh that issues. “Don’t worry, I’ll turn around.” Which he does, as he pulls out a large pot to fill in the sink (after a moment to ask if he can use it).

Phil turns on the faucet and watches the water go, foaming slightly where the building pool meets the stream in the way that tap water does. Light jitters across the surface. They say meditation and water is wedded; here, in a pause, Phil thinks.

After a moment, he turns over his shoulder. “Say, uh—you got news from home? How’s that work with the barrier?”