“What’s the next step then, Ama?” She breathes roughly. “What?” “When you have feelings for someone like you do about me, what do you envision is the next logical step?” I say, trying to keep the sickness in my chest from turning on her. “We continue as we have for the next seventy years? Maybe you move in, but that’s—that’s the end?” Her nostrils flare at me. “I don’t know! I told you I don’t do relationships—” “And yet here we are.”
