Hannah sent a photo

Hannah sent a photo of the two of them in matching pyjamas, the baby mid-shriek and Theo's hair doing something structural. I looked at it for longer than a photo like that warrants and then put the phone face down on the arm of the couch. Not jealous. Or not in the way that word usually gets used. It was more like watching somebody speak a language I did one semester of at university and could probably pick up again but have not, and every year the gap gets slightly wider and the picking-up gets slightly more theoretical. Texted back three exclamation marks, which is the correct number. Two is restrained, four is manic. Danny looked over and asked what, and I said Hannah, and showed him, and he laughed at Theo's hair, and that was the whole exchange. There was a version of the evening where I said the thing underneath and I did not take it, and I am not going to pretend I do not know that I did not take it. Thirty four in August.

Something like: watching Hannah with hers makes me feel like we are standing still. Which is unfair, because we are not standing still. We bought a house. We have a dog that we are both ridiculous about. He works harder than anybody I know. But the sentence is still the sentence, and arguing with it has not made it go anywhere.