Chapter 6 Chapter Six

• The smell of garlic and tomato still hung in the small kitchen when Sylvia pushed the apartment door open with her shoulder.
• Maya stood at the stove in an old university sweatshirt, stirring a pot with one hand and scrolling her phone with the other. The television murmured in the living room, volume low. A single lamp threw warm light across the couch and the stack of unopened mail on the side table.
• “You’re late,” Maya said without turning. “I saved you a plate.”