“No.”
“Then we’re dating.”
I looked at her.
“That sounded suspiciously confident.”
“I was afraid hesitation would produce another policy.”
“That remains possible.”
Annie smiled.
“We’re dating.”
The words did not transform the room. No music began, the ceiling fan continued clicking, and I still had to wake at six-thirty for the morning boat.
“That sounds strange,” I said.
“We can call it something else.”
“No. Leave it alone before you damage it.”
She kissed the inside of my wrist.
“Understood.”
In the morning, I woke to an empty space beside me and the smell of something burning.
I found Annie in the kitchen wearing yesterday’s T-shirt and staring into a frying pan.
Smoke rose from one side.
“What are you doing?”
“Making eggs.”
“You are conducting an attack.”
“The stove is more powerful than expected.”
“You turned the burner to maximum.”
“I wanted efficiency.”
I switched it off and opened the window.
One side of the eggs was black. The other still moved when the pan tilted.
“You have achieved both carbon and a public-health concern.”
“I was attempting contrast.”
“We’re eating at Rosa’s.”
Annie examined the pan.
“Could this be repaired?”
