“I see a boy with dark hair and kind eyes and an open face.” He frowns a little. “Is that all?” “Of course not,” she says. “But I don’t know you yet.” “Yet,” he echoes, and there’s something like a smile in his voice. She purses her lips, considers him again. For a moment, they are the only silent spot in the bustling café. Live long enough, and you learn how to read a person. To ease them open like a book, some passages underlined and others hidden between the lines.
