She used a sunflower emoji.
My knees almost went out the first time I saw it.
The door opens.
Cold air rushes out.
Warm air rushes in.
Noah’s face appears. Concerned. Not surprised.
“How long you been in here?”
“Don’t know.”
He steps inside. Closes the door behind him.
Sits on the flour sack beside me.
Doesn’t ask what’s wrong.
Just sits.
That’s why I like him.
“I met someone. She texted,” I finally say.
Noah glances at the phone. Smiles. “Good.”
“No. Bad.”
He blinks. “Why?”
I glance at the door. Lower my voice.
“Because she doesn’t know what kind of life I’m in.”
I grip the edge of the flour bag. “She doesn’t know about Oksana. The danger. Or the trouble I can be in.”
Noah goes still.
“I don’t let people close,” I say. “Not really. I can’t.”
I stare at the flour on my apron. “If Oksana found out I cared about someone… even a friend… she’d find a way to use it.”
The silence stretches between us.
I don’t tell him the rest.
I don’t tell him I dreamed of her.
That I woke up aching and didn’t even try to stop myself. That I came with her name on my tongue and her voice echoing in my head.
I don’t tell him that for the first time in years, I wanted more than safety.
“She made me laugh,” I say instead. “She made me feel something. And now I’m scared she’ll feel it too.”
Noah is quiet. Then says, “You want her to.”
