Sunday Belonged to SomebodyBy Sunday morning, Natalia had filled her notebook with references from the channel. In Marcus’s suite she set it on the glass table, then raised the temperature setting and put it back. I’m cold. He likes it this way. He continued his call while she stood at the window, watching him in the reflection until she lost track of the traffic below.
An Invitation with Her Name on ItThat Friday evening, Natalia reached Dandara’s apartment at seven, the takeaway bag knocking against her knee. Dandara opened the door in a faded band T-shirt and cotton shorts. Natalia set down the food, turning so the open back of her green dress caught the lamplight, and heard Dandara stop asking about her day. I wore it for you. Come here and let me see what it does. She smiled over her shoulder. Dandara caught her waist and kissed her; Natalia steadied a tipping carton without moving away.
