She paused mid-step at the threshold and glanced back at me.
The look was brief, so brief that Peter, already ahead of her, didn't notice at all.
After the door closed, I leaned against it and stood there for a while.
The living room still held the faint traces they'd carried in. Kirsten was still using that same gardenia-scented shampoo.
I'd breathed it in for too many years. I could have picked it out with my eyes shut.
The end of the month came fast.
Peter chose the restaurant: Rosie's BBQ Joint.
Back when the three of us were kids crammed into the old tenement building, the thing we looked forward to most in winter was sharing a hot pot.
Of course, we couldn't afford anything fancy back then. Just cabbage, tofu, and a few slices of meat.
But the three of us squeezed around a tiny table, fighting over the last piece of tofu in the pot, and that was enough to keep us laughing all night.
The place was packed.
Peter ordered a whole table's worth of food and a case of beer.
"First round. To the three of us, and everything we've been through since we were kids."
I clinked my glass against his and took a long drink.