I remembered the orange drink before I remembered buying it.
Too sweet. Warm by the time we opened it. A cheap bottle shared because Hana had complained about the tea and I hadn't wanted to go downstairs again.
She sat near the borrowed recording setup with the headphones slipping off one ear. June's latest version of the captain's line waited on the screen. I had suggested the cleaner kettle sound again, despite having already lost that argument.
Hana played the old version instead.
The whistle came late. June's voice tried to sound frightened of an alien signal. A faint laugh spoiled the pause in exactly the way Hana liked.
She laughed too.
I could still hear it.
That was why I stayed with the evening instead of reaching for the notebook at once. The words on the page could tell me there had been laughter. They couldn't do what remembering her did now, with the spoiled pause and the drink neither of us had bothered to keep cold.
