Slate watched her walked in front of him when he thought of something.
After getting home, he excused himself and went up to the rooftop.
Taking out his phone, he dialled a number that has been saved there for almost a year now.
"Slate?"
It was Denver.
"Hello," Slate replied.
"How are you? Are you doing great? Is there another problem?"
Slate could hear worry in his voice.
"No, I just..."
"What is it?"
"It is already late but I want to thank you for your help with Beatrice back then. I didn't know how to thank you that it took me this long," Slate explained.
Denver pursed his lips and blinked away the tears, "It's alright son. It is what I was supposed to do."
"Hmmm."
Silence followed because Slate really has no idea what to say more.
"Have you called your mother?" Denver instead asked.
"I haven't, I..."
"Then let's make it into a conference one," Denver suggested.
