The Four Boys at the Restaurant Sink
It seemed to surprise her too.
“I mean you shouldn’t have to leave your own home because of us.”
“I keep a second place downtown.”
“Of course you do.”
“I deserved that.”
For a second the old Kelsey was fully there — the woman who used to tease me about cufflinks that cost more than a semester of her tuition, who had laughed until she cried the first time I tried to cook in her tiny kitchen and set off the smoke alarm.
I missed her so suddenly that it hurt.