“Do you have a MacBook?” I blurt. She shakes her head, but doesn’t look at me like I’m a weirdo. I’ve always loved that about her. “Why?” “Never mind. So, napkins,” I repeat the word. She sighs. “It means nothing.” “Nothing means nothing; otherwise it wouldn’t exist.” “Some people collect coasters, postcards, stamps. I collect napkins. It’s not a big deal.” Silence. I look down at the notepad. Back up. “I just find it quite peculiar, since I was under the impression you hated me.” She looks up from the pictures she’s scanning in her camera. Her eyebrows pull together. “Why would I hate you?”
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