It was a distant kind of recognition, perhaps toying with the idea of an insignificant memory, perhaps it was a recognition of the room we both stood ...n, or perhaps it was the passing recognition of my body that she once knew better than me, now naked and slick with gasoline, glistening in the room’s soft light. Perhaps she was inebriated—she told me she had been attending a gala, or a social, or some kind of well-to-do, ‘Save the Something’ event that night. Whatever she recognized in that. ”“I’m not going to get my way on this, am I?” Lavi asked.“When do any of us get our way when the other two have decided and it’s really for our own good?” I asked.“Exactly,” Melissa said. She was rooting around the fridge. “What’s this?”She pointed to a bowl covered in plastic film with black stuff in it. “That’s beef marinating in a bulgogi sauce for dinner.”“Korean BBQ?”“Yep.”“Now I’m hungry.”“Well, I’m still making the bread and have to make spring rolls.”“Don’t you usually have rice with. More

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