It’s hours later when I wake in the crook of Malcolm’s arm. The remains of our breakfast litter the table in front of us. The half booth we’re snuggled in shields us from most of the diner’s other patrons, but the clatter of dishes reaches my ears. The pancakes I ate are heavy and warm inside me. My lips taste like maple syrup. I feel grubby, un-showered, and I’m not exactly sure what my hair is doing, but I’m certain it’s frightening.
All I want to do is close my eyes again, because in this moment, I’m content.
“You awake?” Malcolm says, his voice low. From its tone I know that he’d let me sleep for as long as I like.
“Just woke up. How long have we been here? Are they going to kick us out?”
“Only an hour and a half.” His fingers play with the sleeve of my shirt. It’s a slow, comforta
