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She lifted the coffee cup and took an experimental sip of her morning brew. Her lips pursed into a sour expression as she set the cup back down with a...hint of irritation. “Remind me, Madison, how do I take my coffee?” she inquired in a conversational tone. My heart sank, realizing I had forgotten to add the required amount of sugar. “Sweet as a cheerleader, and twice as creamy,” I recited her desired formula from memory in a hushed voice. Ms. Booker fixed me with a piercing look and then. " Maybe," she murmured in a voice full of doubt. "I don't know. I can't explain it, really. But I suppose you're right and it's silly for you to keep on hiding. And you're not really hiding, you've been at work three days now and it's been fine. So I guess..."Friday, we agreed. Friday morning I'd check out and take my stuff, leave it in the car for the day, and then go home again that night. I'd be really careful answering the door, I'd continue to keep my hours and my doings unpredictable, but. More

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