‘The Almond. Are you keeping it around to pass on to future generations?’
She pointed at the small tray between driver’s seat and the passenger’s seat. I looked. Sure enough, a small, dusty, dessicated almond sat there presumably oblivious to the interrogation it had inspired.
I took it in for a moment and tried to remember how it had gotten there. And how long it had been there. ‘How long has that been there?’ I asked.
Her eyes widened. ‘As long as I’ve known you.’ So 8 months. At least. How had I missed it?