“Toss out that pathetic pile of self-pitying nonsense. Get the hell out of this ridiculous city, too. Scram. Now. Or this glass is going straight for that pretty little face of yours.”

Shock. The girl sat frozen to her chair, eyes wide, staring at the friend screaming so pitifully in her face. Screaming a torrent of words too vile to stomach.

“Scram.”

Like a robot, she stood. Her eyes, still vacant, stayed wide open. Her trembling hands pulled the chair back from the table to head for the door. Maybe she was scared of that icy glass being flung at her face—the thought alone felt horrifying. She stayed in that daze all the way to her front gate, unaware of how she even managed to ride home. It was as if her body wasn’t hers, like someone had lent her a shell to move in.

A Dream Within a Dream?

She snapped out of it when she saw Tường leaning against the lamppost by her gate, waiting. Was this some layered dream? Maybe the café scene was just a dream, and now she’d slipped into another layer. Those words couldn’t have come from Tường.

“I’m not here to apologize for what I said,” he began. “I don’t want to see Thi again. We each have our own lives, remember? And anyway, we’re just friends. I’ve done my part as a friend.”

She stared at the boy in front of her, stunned. What was happening?

“I forgot to give Thi this.” Tường pressed a small, soft envelope into her hand, urging her to grip it tightly. “And…”

Gently, he leaned down and placed a feather-light kiss on her cheek.

All she could see was the golden streetlight shimmering through the night, filtering through his lion’s-mane hair. Then, suddenly, his head was gone, replaced by the blinding glare of the high-pressure lamp. Tường left behind a stone statue standing in the cold night, frozen for a time she couldn’t even recall.