“So what’s new?” A says as I put my soy latte down on the Starbucks table.
She takes a very long scarf off, sending her dark mane flying upwards.
“My glandular fever test was positive and my purse was stolen today,” I say, deadpan. “You?”
“Oh Christ,” she says. “That’s absolutely shit. How’re you feeling?”
“Shit,” I say. “Things like brushing my hair tire me.”
“Oh.”
She pauses.
“And how’s MindReader?”
“He’s well,” I say. “Sympathetic.”
She smirks suddenly, a glint of white teeth.
“What?” I say.
“Nothing.”
“No, what?” I say, reaching across the table and prodding her arm.
“It’s just, you’re all lit up.”
