Aimee sighed. “That’s the stupidest fucking thing I ever heard. You went and made yourself sad for no reason at all.” She reached out to touch my shoulder, but I turned my back on her and wiped a rogue tear from my eye. “Pretty stupid.” “No. We all have our shit. You should call your friend, though.” She made a little pillow of her jacket and lay her head against her window, and by the time we’d crossed Sixth Avenue she was already asleep. She was the queen of power naps, had to be, to live as she did.
