The doorbell rings. It’s Eve and some boy about six feet tall, carrying a white pastry box.
“Hi,” says Eve. I didn’t notice her eyelashes the other night. She doesn’t have many, but each one is perfectly pointed like the ends of a star. I stare at her so hard she has to take a step back.
“We brought you cupcakes,” says the boy, offering me the box.
“You went to Heidelberg,” I say. “My favorite bakery.” I look longingly at the castle etched on the gold sticker. I used to think it was where the princess pricked her finger. Ian and Eve both wear navy blue peacoats with long Harry Potter scarves wrapped around their necks. They’re standing so close, their arms are touching. I bet they can feel each other through their coats. “Come in,” I say.