Andrea J. Buchanan

This is just conversation, this is a give-and-take, this is not something that requires a real answer, I reminded myself. This is a politeness. In fact I did not truly look well. I saw myself reflected in the speckled mirror surrounding the booth. I saw how the golden flecks and veins couldn’t hide my splotchy cheeks, still red from the walk over, my out-of-fashion hairstyle.

And Samuel. I smiled as I realized he was watching me watch everyone else, and I dropped my eyes for a moment, not wanting to draw Mor’s attention to our silent communication.