Leon was still back at the crossing.

I turned to ask Leon about his landlord and found that I had been telling the first half of my own story to a parking meter. He was still back at the crossing, waiting for the light.

We had agreed to walk to the little square and back. I had said, "No rush." I meant it. Unfortunately, my usual walking speed belonged to a person who thought every errand had a closing time.

I waited by the next tree. When Leon caught up, I started again. After two more trees, we repeated the arrangement.

"Do you want me to send the landlord story as a voice note?" he asked.

I laughed, then said I was happy to wait. He looked at the length of empty pavement between the tree and the crossing.

"I know. Could you try walking with me?"

I stopped trying to lead the route.

We set off side by side. At first I kept feeling an urge to get past things: a parked bicycle, a slow dog, a woman examining a bag of oranges outside the shop. None of them was preventing us from arriving anywhere on time. We had no appointment.

Leon did not explain his pace. I did not need a reason to respect it. He wanted to tell me that his landlord had finally replaced the broken oven, but the new one had arrived with instructions for a dishwasher.

I heard the whole story. There was a second chapter involving a phone call and a missing knob.

We chose the return together.

At the square, I suggested the longer route because it had better trees. Leon said he would rather go back the way we came. I began describing how little extra distance it was, then stopped. He had answered the question I asked.

We bought tea and sat on the low wall. A child was trying to persuade a scooter to cross a patch of gravel. Leon offered a quiet commentary with the confidence of a man who had once owned a disappointing bicycle.

On the return, I caught myself moving ahead once. I slowed without announcing it. There was no need to make every adjustment into a favour.

At his building, Leon said we should do it again. I asked whether he wanted the same route.

"Yes," he said. "And you can bring the rest of that story you were telling the meter."