Ira had a brief staring contest with a smug Lady as Staas poked through his movie collection. She won when he tore his gaze away to look towards Staas, lighting up. “Sure! That Christopher Guest concert mockumentary? Heard it was good, but I haven’t watched it yet.”
He sat pretty as Staas set up the DVD, and they settled down to watch the folk music comedy, which Ira enjoyed thoroughly. Neither he or Staas talked much during the movie, but its gentle, subtle humor coaxed laughter throughout, while the earnest nostalgia of the film complemented the intensity of their grave conversation just hours earlier. But by the time the credits rolled around half past twelve, the evening’s emotional rollercoaster had taken its toll and Ira’s quiet energy had all but drained out. The last of it whistled away when Staas turned off the movie, and Ira shuffled to his feet to clear away the tea mugs.
He set them in the sink to be washed in the morning, and pushed up his glasses to rub at his eyes sleepily. What a crazy day.