She held his gaze.

She felt the break room and the four am and the car park outside and six months of this table and felt something she had been not examining sit completely still and let itself be examined.

"Imara," he said.

"Mm."

She held his gaze.

He reached across the table and his hand covered hers.

She turned her hand over and held his back and felt the specific warmth of it — his hand, the table, the break room, the last four am — and held on.

Neither of them said anything.

They drank their coffee with their hands on the table between them and the car...