Breakfast was a soft-boiled egg, served in a shot glass, and buttered toast, which the woman had cut into strips. The woman offered milk for Mallory’s coffee, but Mallory told her she still drank it black. They ate on the patio. It was another sunny day in Salem. They were quiet. Mallory didn’t know how to eat a soft-boiled egg. She didn’t know what she was doing there or why she had come. She didn’t know anything.
