They sit, back to back, in the computer room, formerly a sitting room, now a place where they sit, but don’t look at each other. Keyboards clacking, mice clicking, but no talking. From here, they communicate to the rest of the world, the friends they have in common, and those they keep to themselves. Between them grows a tree. It started out as a small sapling, an apple seed that fell, unseen, in a crack between two floorboards, nourished by just enough moisture in the air from the window left open to bring in the cool night air. The tree managed, as all life seeks to do, to find its way to soil, following the crack through the foundation, where the roots expanded, making room for itself. Neither of them did anything about it, assuming the other was responsible. Besides, with their backs turned, neither really wanted to see it anyway. So the tree grew, mostly through neglect and silence, until it came to fill the room, keeping the two apart. He dreams of climbing the branches, peeking at her from above to see what she is doing. Her dreams are mostly about sitting in a swing, dangling from the upper branches, awaiting someone to come along and give her a push, a strong helping hand.