The Remainders

“You like sushi?”

I looked up. Teresa stood next to me. Her blond-tipped bangs arched over her smooth brow. Her eyes had the right amount of shadow. Her cheeks had the right amount of blush. Gazing into her gray-blue eyes, I forgot about Yvette’s warning.

“Yeah.” I nodded awkwardly.

“Do you like it with wasabi?”

“Uh, yeah.”

I had no idea where she was going with this. Especially when she took a plate, picked up a couple California rolls, and scooped up a large green mound of the spicy stuff.

I stammered, “That’s a lot of…”

Before I could answer, she sheared off half of the mound with the top of a California roll. She held it up towards me so she could show me the green pile on top. She then popped it in her mouth. I expected her to gag and beg for a glass of water. But I just watched as her jaw muscles shifted. Her metallic red lips unfurled into a wide smile.

“I like things spicy.”

For a moment, I could only stammer. Then I blurted out an introduction.

“I’m…”

“Oliver Glass.” She smiled. “I see you every day.”

“And…” I realized that although I saw her every day too, I didn’t know her name.

She opened her Yves Saint Laurent clutch and took out a piece of paper and a Montblanc pen. Another thing she couldn’t afford on a receptionist’s salary. She presented me with a name and a phone number.

“Call me.” Teresa smiled and walked into the crowd.