The next time they met, he was an ecologist. She went with him early one weekend morning to walk slowly through the woods, more a perusal than a hike, his pace like a bookstore patron with all afternoon to spare. She watched him browse, scan, pause, trying to make sense of what he took note of and why. To him it was not all just a fresh flat green. He noticed impossible things. Tiny abnormalities, the slightest disturbances in an invisible design. "I could never do this," she said, admiring, over an apple split in half. "But you do," he said, smiling. "We both read signs."
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