POV: Maya
She opened the wine and briefly thought about the memory, then pushed it away. After a moment, she let herself think about it again.
Sunday evening. Maya's apartment in Park Slope.The third-floor walkup with the mismatched gallery wall and the kitchen that smelled like nothing because she hadn't baked in weeks. The plants were asleep. The gardenias were still on the windowsill. The cardamom tea was in the cabinet.
She opened a bottle of Malbec. The kind Priya liked,the kind she had bought for a dinner party that never happened.
She poured herself a glass and drank it, then poured another one.
The apartment and city were quiet but her mind was not quiet.
She didn't mean to go there.
She was washing her glass in the sink. The water was hot, the soap was sudsy and her hands w
