They had argued that morning about something logistical: a commitment she had apparently agreed to that she had no memory of agreeing to, which her partner said she had confirmed twice. The argument had lasted about ten minutes and then ended the way their arguments usually ended, with a mutual acknowledgment that they were tired and the underlying logistics could be figured out later. This had been at nine in the morning.
It was now seven in the evening and Maen was sitting across from him at the dinner table and the argument was still present. Not in the sense that she was still thinking about it or nursing it. In the sense that it was in the room with her, at the same density as the dinner, at the same density as the lamp and the plates and the plan they were discussing about August. The argument and the dinner were equally now.
Her present had been assessed at four hours and seventeen minutes since her mid-twenties. The number was stable. She had known since twenty-two that she was an outlier, and she had spent the following thirty years developing strategies for navigating a world that assumed a present of roughly one minute. The primary strategy was editing: she triaged what she allowed herself to respond to, consciously suppressing the contents of her present that were not relevant to the current conversation. She was good at this. It was tiring.
Her partner was using the past tense about the argument. "I overreacted this morning, " he said, between something about the August trip and something about whether they needed to book accommodation in advance. "I know you didn't mean it the way I took it."
Maen said: "I appreciate that."
She did appreciate it. She was also simultaneously in the argument, which had not ended for her, which was happening at this table alongside the dinner. She was aware that the slight edge in her voice was from the argument, not from anything he was saying now, and she edited it as best she could.
Also in the room: a building she had passed on the way home, scaffolding on its upper floors in an unusual configuration that she had found interesting and had wanted to think about. She had not had time to think about it. It was still present, equally, alongside the argument and the dinner and the question of August accommodation.
He asked her something about dates and she answered correctly about dates. He reached for the wine. She watched him pour.
The argument was present. The scaffolding was present. The August plans were present. He said something she agreed with and she poured them both more coffee and he wrapped his hands around the mug and the steam rose between them and all of this was now, equally, all of it now.