The receipt I left up

Stir-fry in the pan when Carly rang. She asked did I ring them. I said yeah. She went quiet on the line. The pan got too hot. I told her about Thursday. The slot. The autumn list. She said mate, it's your call. Even if the time was bad. She said mate because I say mate. Because Dad is gone. Then we talked footy for fifteen minutes. Easy. Safe. The kind of talk that lets you breathe. I did not take the receipt down after I hung up. It is still on the fridge. If I take it down I have to feel it. So it stays. That is the kind of brave I am today. My hand is sore from the bag this morning. Dad would have said something dumb and right. I would have rolled my eyes at him. I miss getting to roll my eyes. Carly says mate now and I hear both of us in it.