Nobody Said Anything for Forty-Five Minutes

Tuesday session. Full route, second corner, a few traverses on the low wall. I felt good. Strong, even, the kind of evening where the body remembers what it's doing before the mind weighs in. I chalked up, I climbed, I came down, I stood near the wall doing the debrief thing where you replay the moves you got wrong and pretend you already know how you'd fix them.

Simone showed me a photograph. That is chalk. On my face. Specifically on my left cheekbone. A proper smear, the kind that looks intentional, like I put it there with purpose. I have no memory of touching my face. I have no theory. Simone has a very good theory about the move on the overhang where I used my forearm to wipe my forehead, but that is not the point. The point is she had this photograph for forty-five minutes and said nothing.

'I was waiting,' she said, 'to see if you'd notice.'

I did not notice.

Simone approximately two seconds after she showed me the photo.

She found this very funny. I found it funny too, eventually, which is around when we took the timer photo so I'd have documentation of the full situation before I cleaned up.

The crime. The criminal. The witness.

The chalk was gone by the time we got to the lobby. The photograph is permanent. These are the conditions of the friendship and I have accepted them.