She'd been working through the problem, sifting through all the disparate parts — then suddenly, it all made sense, it all clicked into place. The pieces arranged themselves in a single motion. She sat there, catching up to what she'd already seen.

He'd been listening to her for twenty minutes, something not adding up in the way she was telling it — then suddenly, it all clicked into place. The gap wasn't an accident. She was telling him two different stories and hoping he wouldn't notice. He saw the whole shape of it.

She'd been reading the old letter without understanding what her father meant — then suddenly, it all made sense. He hadn't been warning her. He'd been telling her he was leaving. Twenty years later, in her kitchen, it finally landed.