He acted like I’d qualified for the Olympics.
Back at our building, we stopped between our doors.
Neither of us reached for our keys.
“Are you going to kiss me goodbye?” I asked.
“Depends.”
“On what?”
“Whether you’re finally done pretending it’s just hello.”
I grabbed the front of his jacket.
And he kissed me.
A real kiss.
Warm. Certain. A little clumsy.
The kind that makes you forget where you put your hands.
For about thirty seconds, the whole world became one badly lit apartment hallway.
Then my phone vibrated.
Celia again.
Mandatory meeting. Monday, 8:00 a.m. Bring your identification badge.
Underneath was another message.
Failure to cooperate may result in immediate suspension.
I showed Graham the screen.
He read it without speaking.
Then he asked one question.
“Renata, why would your director threaten your job over a record you couldn’t possibly have created?”
I looked at the Halloween timestamp.
