We met at one of my mother’s favorite restaurants, a quiet place with dark wood furniture and starched linen napkins folded like origami.
She wore navy, her signature color when she wanted to be taken seriously, and ordered a glass of wine before I had a chance to sit down.
« So? » she asked, tilting her head. « Is this a real-life update, Jonathan, or are we just catching up? »
« I’m seeing someone, Mom. »
« What’s she like? » she asked, smiling widely, sharp with interest.
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