Chapter 8Zach sat on the couch in the Franes’ living room, with a cup of coffee in his hands. The Franes were a young couple, Simon, a black man, and Visha, a pretty Indian woman with light brown skin and long black hair. They were talking with their heads close together, Zach’s Link in their hands. Meanwhile, their four-year-old daughter, Amina, who had quickly got over any wariness of Zach, had brought out armfuls of her dolls and stuffed animals, lined them up on the couch, and started telling Zach all of their names. As she chattered on and her parents examined the data, Zach’s thoughts kept circling back round to the last words he’d said to Adam.
Thank you.
What kind of i***t said thank you for a kiss? But it had caught Zach off guard. His mind had been whirling with so many thought
