The line at the Walmart on West Outer Drive moved slow. Sophie counted three people ahead of her, each with a cart full of things that didn't matter and one thing that did.

The man in front of her was wearing a faded blue jacket with a name patch that said CALEB. He had short brown hair and a face that looked like it had spent too much time in the sun and not enough time in front of a mirror.

He turned to grab a box of cereal from the shelf next to the belt. When he turned back, he saw her looking and stopped.

"Sophie."

She knew that voice. She had known it for twenty years, since they were kids in the same apartment complex in Cleveland. She had not thought about it in a long time.

"Caleb."

He put the cereal on the belt. "Long time."

"Yeah."

He looked at her cart. She looked at his. His had a six-pack of beer and a pack of cigarettes and a frozen pizza. Hers had diapers and dog food and a bottle of ibuprofen.

"How've you been?" he asked.

"Fine. You?"

"Same."

The cashier rang them up. Caleb paid in cash. Sophie used her card. They stood there for a moment, not sure what to do next.

"I'm going to the gas station across the street," Caleb said. "Want to grab coffee? We could talk."

Sophie thought about it. She had a shift at the nursing home in two hours. She had a husband at home who would be wondering why she was late. She had a life that was not bad and not good and just going.

"Okay," she said. "Coffee."

They sat at a plastic table by the window. Caleb drank his coffee black. Sophie drank hers with cream and sugar. Neither of them said anything for a minute.

"You look tired," Caleb said.

"I am tired."

"Work?"

"Life."

He nodded. He understood that answer. It was the most common answer in the world.

"How's Edward?" he asked.

"Fine."

"Fine how?"

She thought about the question. Fine how. Edward was fine. He was always fine. He came home from work, he ate dinner, he watched the news, he went to bed. He was fine. She was fine. Together they were fine. And fine was the worst thing you could be.

"Fine," she said again.

Caleb looked out the window. A truck drove by, slow, its tires making that sound on wet asphalt.

"I used to think about you," he said. "A lot. In the beginning. Then less. Then not at all. Then sometimes, when I saw a kid running around like they were possessed, I'd think of you and remember you used to do that too."

Sophie smiled. She had forgotten about that. Running around the apartment complex, screaming at nothing, making up games that made sense only to her.

"I wasn't possessed," she said. "I was creative."

"Same thing."

She laughed. It was a real laugh. She hadn't laughed like that in a long time.

"Do you remember that summer we were twelve?" Caleb said. "We built a fort in your backyard. It was made of blankets and chairs and it fell down every time it rained."

"It rained a lot that summer."

"We ate all the cheese puffs in one sitting and got sick."

"You threw up on my shoes."

"You were crying because your dog died."

"I wasn't crying. I was sneezing."

"Same thing."

They laughed again. The coffee was getting cold. Outside, the parking lot was full of cars and people and the ordinary business of living.

"I'm not happy," Sophie said. She didn't plan to say it. It just came out. "I'm not unhappy. I'm just... not happy."

Caleb looked at her. He didn't say anything for a long time. Then he said, "I know."

"How?"

"Because I know you. You were never built for 'fine.' You were built for something more. Or something less. I'm not sure which."

She thought about that. She thought about her apartment, her job, her husband, her life. She thought about the way she looked in the mirror every morning and didn't recognize the woman staring back.

"What do you think I should do?" she asked.

Caleb shrugged. "I don't know. That's not my call."

"But you have an opinion."

"I do. But it's not yours to hear unless you ask for it."

She asked. "What is it?"

He looked at her for a long time. The gas station hummed behind them, a refrigerator door opening and closing, opening and closing.

"My opinion is that you're hungry," he said. "Not for food. Not for sleep. You're hungry for something you can't name. And until you name it, nothing else will fill you up."

She stared at him. He was right. He was so right it hurt.

"How do I name it?" she asked.

"You don't. You just keep looking until you find it."

They sat in silence after that. The coffee was cold. The light was fading. Sophie had to go. She had a shift at the nursing home. She had a husband at home. She had a life that was not bad and not good and just going.

She stood up. She put on her coat. She looked at Caleb one more time.

"Thanks for the coffee," she said.

"Anytime," he said.

She walked out to her car. She got in. She drove home.

When she got home, Edward was in the kitchen, making dinner. He looked up when she walked in.

"Hey," he said. "How was your day?"

"Fine," she said.

He nodded. He didn't ask for more. He never did. That was one of the things she loved about him. And one of the things she hated.

Dinner was pasta. They ate in silence. The TV was on in the other room, but neither of them was watching.

After dinner, Sophie went to the bathroom and stood in front of the mirror. She looked at herself. She looked at the woman who was not bad and not good and just going.

She thought about Caleb's words: You're hungry for something you can't name.

She thought about the fort they built when they were twelve. She thought about the cheese puffs. She thought about the dog. She thought about running.

She went to bed. Edward was already asleep. She lay beside him and stared at the ceiling.

In the morning, she woke up early. She made coffee. She sat at the kitchen table and drank it slowly, watching the sun come up over the parking lot of the apartment complex across the street.

Her phone buzzed. A text message. She didn't need to look to know who it was from.

She looked anyway.

It was one word: Coffee?

She smiled. She typed a reply.

Yes.

She drank the rest of her coffee. She got ready for work. She kissed Edward on the cheek on her way out.

"Where are you going?" he asked.

"Out," she said.

And for the first time in a long time, that was enough.

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