![]() Joshua and I look at each other and bare our teeth. Colleagues break off conversations and look at us with speculative expressions. It requires me to almost double my stride. ![]() We march purposefully toward the kitchen with identical footfalls, left, right, left, right, like prosecutors walking toward the camera in the opening credits of Law & Order. Does he think I’m crazy? “I think I’ll join you.” I look down my hand is already holding my red polka-dot mug. Can I get you some tea?” He has his heavy black mug in his hand. ![]() We act like normal colleagues who don’t want to swirl their hands in each other’s blood. It’s a game called How You Doing? and it basically starts off like we don’t hate each other. “How You Doing, Little Lucy?” His bright tone and mild expression indicates we’re playing a game we almost never play.
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