Today I went to the mall to meet the group. It was Saturday, the kind of day where the air conditioning in the entrance feels like a slap of relief against the humid afternoon heat. I had called Sasha earlier to see if she wanted to hangout, but she said she was already there with the others.
They were tucked away inside the eatery, a bright spot filled with the smell of fried dough and over-roasted coffee. I spotted them from across the food court, huddled together, talking and laughing so hard I could see Sasha's shoulders shaking. But the moment they saw me weaving through the tables, the laughter died. It didn't just fade; it stopped like someone had pulled the plug on a speaker. By the time I reached the table, they were acting all calm, eyes fixed on the table or the ceiling.
