I Can Afford My Own Dinner

Summary

Working through the night to pull the project across the finish line left me running on fumes.

My first instinct when it was over was to text Willie, to ask him out for a nice dinner and celebrate. But opening our chat, the reality of us hit me: we hadn’t spoken in nearly two weeks.

The little digital spark that kept our thread alive had flickered out three years ago.

The screen still held his last messages:

[Bella, stop being mad over such a petty thing.]

[I have to help my mentee prep her competition portfolio tonight. Don't wait up, I'll bring you an iced latte on my way back.]