“Jia! It's me. Brian.”
“What the hell are you talking about? What do you mean, 'it's me?' It's me what? Where's Brian?” She looked around the tiny studio apartment. “Is he playing some sort of stupid joke?”
“Listen to me!” The high, clear voice was half a scream. The woman took her upper arms in her hands and shook her until her head rocked back and forth. “My name is Brian Peter Underwood. My birthday is January twenty-seventh.” She ran a hand through her hair, disordering the wavy mass. Even in her confused state, Jia couldn't help eying it admiringly. “I met you when we were six. Your birthday is March the third.” She stammered frantically, clearly searching for the correct piece of evidence. “You came out to me at the junior prom, while I was trying to figure out whether you'd let me
