The next morning, I have a pot of coffee waiting for her in the lab. That much, at least, is like every other morning...though it’s really the third pot I’ve made since midnight the night before. I drank the first two on my own; it was the only way I could stay up all night and make the final preparations for the grand unveiling.
When I see how bad she looks when she walks in, I’m extra glad I decided to carry out my secret plan today. Her eyes are bloodshot, her face haggard, her hair tangled. She shuffles around like she’s still half-asleep, like she was the one up all night and not me.
I fill her mug with coffee and stir in a teaspoonful of sugar, the way she likes it. She doesn’t take it at first, and when she does, she only sips once and puts the mug back down on the table.
Ha
