and comfortably noisy, with wooden tables, mismatched chairs, and a chalkboard menu someone had clearly rewritten in a hurry.
Sabrina arrived wearing a dark blue blouse and jeans. Her hair was loose, and she looked tired until she saw me. Then her face brightened in a way that made standing up feel less like a practiced courtesy than a natural response.
“You found it,” she said.
“I followed the address.”
“Excellent survival skill.”
We sat beside a window overlooking the sidewalk. I nearly launched into the funny story I had
