Elizabeth sits outside the tea shop, her legs crossed. Her eyes follow each word she types into her phone. It’s hot for March, so she’s wearing a fit that’s breathable: ponytail, t-shirt, mom shorts, and low-top Converses, faded and without socks.
“Hey girl.” I say.
She glances up and beams me a smile. “Hey dude.”
She watches me sit down. There’s a potted plant behind my side of the table, so I’m careful not to draw out the chair too much. When I lean in, we’re face-to-face.
“This peacock blocked the road I took. It just stood there. I had to get out of the car,” I say.
“It wasn’t scared?” She says.
I shake my head. “Actually I think it was trying to flex on me. I had to flex back.” I shoot out my arms to the sides and flap my hands. “Ca-CAW.”
She giggles, bundling along a smile. I haven’t seen her wear make-up in years, but I think of lipstick commercials anyway.
“How’s Providence?” I say.
“It’s good. I’m leaving the dual-program. Brown’s more than enough for what I want right now,” she says.