Joy is the burr in her voice, like petting a cat backwards (when it’s warm). Boer always thought he’d like that, if he were a cat.

“Tell me what you’re scared of,” he says, tingly with the risk of asking.

“Umm. Bees. Tornadoes. Insurance.” Claudette rolls her head and pulls the picnic blanket close. “Antarctica public nudity used car salesmen. This is a very personal line of questioning, you know? Toenail fungus.”

“Aren’t you going to ask me back?”

“I’ll tell you.” She peers at him. “Mmm. Silence! Silence and barbed wire?”

He holds his breath, trying to prove her wrong.