Free Gathering String by Mimi Johnson

like we’re not meant to have any secrets.” He pulled open the door. “Get some rest.”
    In his room, he googled an AT&T store, called, and put Tess’s new phone, and a charger for his own, on the American Express. Then he rang the front desk and asked to have someone sent to pick them up, putting that fee on the room charge.
    He’d showered at the hospital, but took a longer, hotter one now, trying to stretch out the aches. Then he changed into the cheap Wal-Mart jeans and t-shirt. He spent the next couple hours making calls on the story. With a Twitter search for the hashtag #RemingtonSD, he found a Remington exile who was waiting to hear if her house was still standing. Boats were just making it back into the town, but the going was slow and treacherous with debris. It wasn’t until they were wrapping up that he remembered he had no laptop to write on, so he called Johnson and dictated what he had, amused at the nostalgic feeling it gave him. When Sam hung up the AT&T delivery came, so he plugged in his dying phone and the new one to let them charge. Finally he went to the ATM in the lobby and got some cash.
    Back in the suite, he wandered aimlessly, unable to think of a single thing to do. He wondered if Tess was sleeping. He knew it would probably be good if he could get some shut-eye too, but he dreaded lying down. Uneasy, uncomfortable, he knew all his activity was just another way of still outrunning the blast.
    Pain medication had let him sleep at the hospital. He pulled out the bottle from the pharmacy and read to take two capsules every four to six hours. They looked awfully small. He swallowed three. Then he meandered back into the sitting room. He’d just flipped on ESPN when he heard the door to Tess’s room open and then a soft tapping.
    When he swung the door wide, she smiled in relief. “Good, you weren’t asleep. I didn’t want to wake you.” She was wearing one of the thick, white Turkish cotton robes that came with the suite, and her hair was damp. A bellhop with a covered tray of food stood behind her, and she lowered her voice. “Could I bum a few bucks for a tip?”
    “Sure.” He stepped into the hall, fishing a ten from his wallet. The young man handed the tray to Tess, gave them a curious glance, and hurried off. Taking the swipe card from her hand, Sam opened her door and held it for her, asking, “Did you sleep?”
    She wrinkled her nose. “Not much. Mostly I’ve just been knocking around, trying not to think too much, you know?”
    He nodded, “Yeah, I even resorted to turning on the TV.” And then it hit him, looking suddenly back at his own closed door. “Ah, damn it, I’m locked out. I left my card on the table.”
    “I’m sorry.”
    He shook his head. “I’ll just go down and get another one.”
    She held up the tray in her hands. “Do it later. Want to share? It’s a burger and fries.” He started to shake his head, but she added, “I’m not all that hungry. Ordering it was just something to do. I didn’t want to show off this shiner in the dining room.” He hesitated, and she admitted, “I could use the company.”
    “I could eat.” Sam followed her into the room. It was bigger and nicer than his, with a large table, giant widescreen TV, and a white chaise lounge in the sitting room, the bedroom and bathroom beyond French doors.
    She split the hamburger down the middle sloppily with a butter knife, then poured half the bottle of beer into a water glass and handed it to him.
    “I hit the ATM,” he said, pulling his wallet back out, and handing her some bills.
    She took them with a funny little laugh. “You know, this just gets more and more surreal. Here I am, in a hotel suite, wearing an expensive robe, with a man handing me $200.” She shook her head.
    “And I put it on the company card no less,” Sam laughed too, softly. Carefully, avoiding his gashed lower lip, he took a small bite of sandwich.
    “What were you watching?”
    He spoke around the