Fatema stood on the balcony of her apartment looking out in to the city, thankful that for the first time in a long time, she could look ahead of her instead of at the past. Drew came up behind her, wrapped his arms around her waist and nuzzled the side of her neck. “How’s the coffee?” he asked, knowing the answer already. She rolled her eyes. “You know it’s good.” Fatema took another sip. The night Nelson was arrested was the night she called him to come over. That had been a week ago, and this time, he’d never left. “Some things are just right,” he told her that next day. “You and me, Fatty, we’re right, and no matter how hard you fight it, there’s nothing you can do to change it.” “Oh, yeah,” she retorted. “And what about what’s-her-name?” “Who?” She hit him on the arm. “Your girl, Drew. The woman you live with?” Drew laughed out loud, then winked. “I ain’t lived with that woman in three months, Fatema.” “Quit lying!” “I’m serious,”
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