She had known, for about three weeks now, that Zarina was going to move out at the end of the summer — Josh's lease was bigger, the doctoral program was going to demand a workspace that the current flat's cramped second bedroom couldn't provide, and the logic of it was so plainly sound that Sugar hadn't even tried to argue against it. She had, instead, spent three weeks quietly not thinking about how much she was going to miss the particular chaos of a flatmate who left mugs of half-finished tea in increasingly improbable locations and cried, exactly twice a year, in a way she thought nobody noticed.
She brought it up herself, finally, on a Tuesday evening that had no particular reason to be the night for it except that Zarina had come home glowing from good news about the doctoral fundin
