He picks up his toast, bites the corner, chews slowly, then swallows. “Love.” I still. He doesn't say I love you. And I don’t say it back. It doesn’t feel like the right time yet. Not with Shin still angry, and not with having to keep so much of ourselves hidden. But it’s there, hovering all around us, and it feels like we could reach out and catch it, if we wanted, like softly falling snowflakes. We could snag it with our fingertips and make it real. So I nod, reach for my toast, and hold it above the plate. “A weekend. I’m in.”
