“Me too.”
We did not turn the conversation into an exchange of every difficult thing that had made us who we were. We had only known each other a few weeks. There was room to be honest without demanding the entire history at once.
Instead, she touched my arm.
“Food?”
“Desperately.”
At the café, we found a table near the window. Sabrina ordered a sandwich and iced tea. I ordered a wrap and coffee, mostly because pottery had exhausted parts of my concentration I had not known existed.
She watched
