“Another system failure?” she asked, leaning against the doorframe. I admitted it was possible, then told her she looked beautiful before I could dilute the compliment. Her smile changed, losing its practiced mischief for a second, and she touched one earring as though she had forgotten putting it on. “Thank you,” she said, then looked me over and added that I was moderately acceptable, which restored just enough of our normal world for me to breathe.
I had booked a restaurant downtown with low lighting, expensive water, and menus that seemed designed to make an adult apologize for being hungry. For the first ten minutes, we behaved like strangers participating in a formal exercise. Maya asked how my week had been, then covered her face when I reminded her she had witnessed most of it. We laughed hard enough to draw a glance from the next table, and the embarrassment finally loosened its grip.
