My phone did the annoying buzz under my cheek, the one that says you slept four hours and made bad choices, I opened one eye, saw Maya on my lock screen with hydrate, carbs, sunglasses that say I pay taxes, and accepted that friendship is a full contact sport, I rolled upright, drank water like it could forgive me, showered, pulled on wide–leg trousers and a white top that didn’t argue, slid into flats because my ankles had filed a petition, and bribed my stomach with a banana that knew it wasn’t enough
Ken clocked me at the turnstiles, gave me that small nod that buys me eight steps of peace, “floor’s nosy,” he said, not unkind, “bring your indoor voice,”
“my indoor voice is on strike,” I said, “I’ll mime,”
Ops Corner stared like I was late to my own trial, Angela passed me a water lik
