The Dinner Date

You’d laugh to see me writing this now. It was the first thing you asked when I told you I was a novelist. “Are you going to put this in a story?”

I gave you my standard answer. “Only if you piss me off.”

You grinned. “Revenge fiction, huh? Better than revenge porn, I suppose.”

For the record, you didn’t piss me off. And this isn’t fiction, though most people will think it is. Mysterious figures with magical powers will do that, every time.

But I’m getting ahead of myself, aren’t I? Let’s start over.

I’m a pro at that now, thanks to you. Starting over.

The Parent-Child Relationship Index

Sam stands at the one-way mirror in Observation Room Twelve. To anyone who doesn’t know him, he would seem indifferent. His hands are in his pockets and his posture is relaxed. His breathing is calm. He’s betrayed only by the fact that he hasn’t moved in seventeen minutes.

He hadn’t planned to stay here so long. He’d assumed he’d go straight into the Meeting Room. But Kara got there first, and something about the tenderness in her face and the way her body already seemed to curl protectively around the baby in her arms arrested his hurry. And so, here he stands, soaking in the sight.

“Have you ever witnessed a First Meeting?”