The darkness passed. It didn’t fade so much as bleed into the ground and slide into place as the woman’s shadow. The cold lessened but didn’t disappear. Bonnie jumped off the bench and rubbed her hands together.

“It’s too late for that,” said the tattered woman.

Bonnie’s cell rang. The ring tone told her it was her boyfriend.

“I’m sorry,” said the woman.

Bonnie flipped open the phone. “Hi, Walter. You would not believe what just happened to-”

He broke up with her. He wasn’t rude, but he didn’t feign politeness either. Just told her it was over, and hung up. She didn’t have time to absorb the news, much less formulate a response. She tried calling him back, five times, but he didn’t answer.

“I’m sorry,” said the woman, “but I did tell you not to sit there.”

“No, you didn’t.”

“I didn’t? Are you certain about that? Because I’m pretty sure I did.”

“No, I’m pretty sure you didn’t.”

Bonnie dialed her boyfriend again with the same result. She left another message.

“Well, maybe if you had said something to me before you sat,” said the tattered woman, “I could’ve warned you. It’s only polite to acknowledge others.”

“I said hello.”

“Did you? That’s something, I suppose.”

Bonnie dialed her phone again but snapped it shut before the call went through. “I talked to you about the day, too. About the weather!”

“I suppose.” She grunted. “Though you didn’t sound like you really meant it.”

“I didn’t mean it.”

“So you admit it?”

“Of course I admit it,” said Bonnie. “It’s the weather. It doesn’t mean anything. It’s just polite conversation.”

“I guess that counts for mortal politeness in this new age.”

Bonnie paced in a tight circle, staring at her phone, willing it to ring.

“He’s not going to call,” said the tattered woman. “It’ll just be easier to let him go.”