He sat in his car for seventeen minutes, breath puffing out in clouds, before remembering to turn the heat on.

His anger had warmed him at first. But, eventually, he’d been left cold.

He twisted the key in the ignition, felt the engine rumble weakly in protest. Two more minutes before he hit the button for the heater.

A loud beep startled him. He fumbled in his pocket for his phone. Two voicemails. He wondered how he hadn’t heard it ring, but didn’t really care.

They were both from Karen.

He deleted them both, uninterested, and drove to the restaurant.