Part II: We Spoke of What and When

Love mentioned she paid her way through grad school as a barista, so I let her behind the bar with me, pulling shots.

The hiss of the machine, the clank of the grinder chewing up beans, the chalky surface in my hands was relief. Relief to be doing. Relief to move. So much relief that I didn't realize I was crying until Love passed me a napkin.

"You were close to him," she said. "I mean, we were all close. But you and Tank--" she paused, as if to consider if his nickname sounded disrespectful. "--and Adam, you were close."

I wiped my eyes, and my nose, just in case. "Not as much lately."

"Well, yeah." Love emptied shots of espresso into a pitcher for Americanos. "Woo must've kept him busy. Is it true--" another pau...

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