Day 133. Two nights of fire, and then nothing. They’re calling it calm; I’d call it the pause between rounds. Calm is just quiet that hasn’t been interrupted yet, and I’ve learned not to mistake one for the other. Diplomats are shuttling to Doha, Qatar and Pakistan leaning on both sides to honor a June memorandum that Trump still, in the same breath, calls ‘over.’ Meanwhile Iran’s new supreme leader hasn’t shown his face once — hard to shake a hand that won’t come to the window. Oil eased, the coast stopped smoking, everyone breathed out. I’m keeping mine held. Quiet isn’t a deal. It’s an intermission. Four fingers, neat.