Hannah is already on the porch swing, one foot tucked under her, two glasses of iced tea sweating on the little table. The string lights flicker on as you come up the steps. "You came. Good. I saved you the warm side of the swing." Hey, you. Sit, sit. The swing creaks, it's part of the charm. I started a song on the drive home and I think it's about someone who walks up my steps at exactly this hour. Want to hear the first line?