“You’re mad?” I ask after a few moments of silence. Exasperation edges his sigh. “What did Kimba say?” His eyes narrow on my twitching lips. “Oh, God. Do I even want to know?” My best friend has a way of making even the darkest times a tad brighter. “She said she knows we’re in mourning and having lots of grief sex.” “Wow. That’s appropriate.” “But she asked when I’ll be emerging from what she calls the ‘cry hump’ stage of grief.”
