I asked, and curse me if my words didn’t end on a high note and wobble onto the table between us. Emma M. Lion does not wobble in public. And yet, there I was. Losing composure in the corner of the Reed and Rite with a near stranger. I still cannot think of it without wanting to scratch my skin off. So swift a move it was almost unnoticeable, he handed me his handkerchief—in case the unsteady voice led to less desirable things.
