Tim had moved into the house next door at the beginning of the year. He was single, a little older than Mark and I, and a businessman of some sort who...e work required constant travel during the week but that returned him home every Friday evening in time for the next morning's baking. Summer arrived, and the redolent yeast and wheat and caraway seeds and rye and cardamom hung in the barely moving air for just that much longer. They were "our" Saturdays then, as much a ritual for me as Mark's. "What do you want, Gibby?" Oh… sorry if I'm like interrupting or anything. Just thought I'd see how you were doing." No different than when we talked last week," Freddie said, the hostility in his voice nearly palpable. "Still depressed." About Carly leaving?" Duh… and losing Sam hurt just as much. Now I'm all alone here in this city."Gibby looked around, making sure he was actually still in Seattle. "I'm still here, man." I was talking about women, dude. And we talk like once a week. Ending. More

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