RA

ing out here for l

ch across the corridor with a coffee cup in one hand and her phone

arly,"

s not

st hadn't been able to make my

st my face. What my face should look like walking into a room and seeing someone for the first time. Neutr

minutes and I still was

inally. "You're number eleven, righ

e door open

already

his coffee order, the particular way he sat in chairs that were slightly too small for him, always with one arm on the table and his weight shifted left. He wa

ctised fell out of

memories of those hands for five years and there they were, right there on the table in front of me, wrapped around a pen. He w

ike he'd never seen m

oss?" h

vo

ng he could say that would surprise me. But hearing it in the actual air of an actual room with him actually sitting

oice came out norma

ble. Not warm, not cold. Professional. "This won't

and I looked at him and he looked at me and there was nothing on

asked. He had the notepad in front of him

ears,"

hing. "And wha

I work out of the cen

d know about? Anything that came up during the

come out of me.

d. "Nothing

f his attention landed on me and I had to work very hard no

that tim

ere you

y. Small pack. I

cleaning product they used on the floors .. something sharp and citrus that didn't quite cover the underneath smell of a room a lot of people had sat in ove

want to ask

d back

" I

politeness." There was the smallest thing i

he was clearly waiting for something and I neede

in

oo

he said. "You're asking because I p

right and he knew he was right and there

a problem

. Just barely. "I app

Saying my name the way he used to say it, with the weight on the first syllable, like

across from me was writing

e needs that it's not getting?" he

bit slow. About a three-week dela

at it." He wrote that do

N

onal attention he'd been giving me for the last ten minutes. It was quieter than that. More personal. Like he was a

icked up my bag.

ng have

top

or

like he was listening to something I couldn

areful. Every single

aid. "We

looking at me

e been asking me questions," I said. Ev

ight." He picked up the pen again. "Sor

ree steps and I was out and I could breathe and then I could figu

st

w

losed arou

to move it and his fingers had just .. landed. On my wrist. Warm and certain and imm

He stopped. He was staring at his own hand like it had d

n't m

aying attention in a way skin normally didn't. And deep in the back of my head, in the part where I'd been storing five years

had felt

ory attached to it for him, no context, nothing to grab onto

thing I was carrying like a key turning in

was still steady. I didn't kno

man on the bench looked up from her phone and said something I didn't hear because

st recognis

g was going to ge