They met at a small café named Grind on a side street off Gottingen. Taiye found Salomé sitting at the counter in a black velvet T-shirt and slim-cut khakis, sipping from a bright yellow espresso cup. “Isn’t it a bit late for caffeine?” Taiye asked, pulling up a bench beside her. “Hey.” Salomé put her cup down and leaned in to kiss Taiye on her cold cheek. “I have some papers to grade,” she chuckled, “so I, um, so I need this.”
