The knock came at 8:17. Maya stood outside in gray sweatpants, an oversized green hoodie, and sunglasses that suggested the sun had personally disappointed her. She held two coffees and looked past my shoulder before meeting my eyes. “I come bearing caffeine and shame,” she said, and I stepped aside because my body still knew how to make room for her even when the rest of me had forgotten how to function.
She set the cups on the counter and lowered herself onto a stool with extraordinary care. I leaned against the opposite cabinet, trying not to look like a man waiting for a verdict. For a while we discussed the traffic cones, my driving, and the unfortunate fact that she remembered her opinion of my turn signal. Then she took off her sunglasses and placed them beside her coffee, and there was nowhere left for either of us to hide.
