December 25, 2009.
“That’s a pretty mean look you’re giving the coffee machine,” she said.
A small yelp escaped Stephen as he whirled around to find Aarti smiling at him. He figured the office was completely empty today. “What are you doing here?”
“Same as you, I imagine—might as well come into work. Not much else to do. My travel schedule seems to have been taken care of for me.”
“Yeah, I know. Coffee’s terrible here,” Stephen replied, waiting for the antiquated vending machine to dispense its $0.75 of acrid sludge. He slammed the vending machine, hoping to convince it to at least hurry.
“Why don’t you just write Molly again, Stephen? They didn’t find out the last time. You haven’t written her in months.”
His gaze didn’t ...