I had gotten my work back, demanded my rights, and accepted help without strings.

Vincent was waiting outside.

We had been talking for weeks without promising anything.

He asked if I wanted to go for a walk with him, and I said yes.

Then he stopped, smiling with a shyness I had never seen in him.

“May I kiss you?”

I looked at Owen, the grocery bag, and the street where months earlier I had felt my life was ending.

“Today, yes,” I told him.