Yeah, we have. And I still have no idea how Emmy is doing, or what the state of her house is, or if she has anything but one bunny slipper to wear on her feet. Without thinking, I lean forward, trying to see over the counter, but the angle is all wrong. “Do you have shoes on?” Emmy frowns. “What?” She laughs. “Shoes,” I say. “Last night, you were wearing one slipper.” “Oh.” She glances down at her feet. “Yeah, I mean. . .I had to wear something else, you know. . .” I feel stupid. “Yeah, I didn’t think. . .you probably couldn’t go barefoot. . .” “Yeah, I borrowed a pair from my mom.” She gives
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