The Anatomy of Emotion

Chapter Five

Maeva stares at the floor where she and Corin had fucked earlier. It had been the best part of her day so far. She sighs and goes to the closet for her coat and heels.

"I'm going out for lunch, call me if anything comes up."

As soon as she closes the gallery door behind her, Maeva fishes her phone from her leggings and punches the same text out twice. Meet for lunch? Boulangerie?

Naila answers her first, before she has walked a block—in 15.

Her phone chimes with Amelia's answer when she is nearly to the market street—Oh, perfect! We haven't had a good chat in forever, I hope you invited Nai too. See you soon. Love!

Maeva slips her mobile back into her pocket and studies the fresh colors of people's balcony gardens as she walks. Sunny oranges, titanium whites, and lovely, orgasm pinks. She shakes her head at that train of thought, and then smooths her bangs back into place.

The smell of the market street leads her along better than any road sign could. The slimy scent of fresh fish, tart fruit. It is populated this time of day, but not busy. Mostly late lunch-goers like her, a few early dinner shoppers. She finds a woman in a sharp black suit and slick sienna bun at one of the little standing tables outside the boulangerie. Maeva nods as she goes into the shop, and Naila flicks a wave back.

When she returns from getting her lunch and receiving the store owner's life story, Naila is sipping on a cappuccino, halfway through a ham and butter sandwich. Maeva unwraps her Monsieur Gruyere, careful of the melted cheese. Corin's croissants already feel like a long time past. The sex in her gallery had used them up.

"Busy day?" Naila eyes the heavy sandwich.

"Busy night," Maeva bites into it and sighs.

Ham, gruyere, crusty bread, pure satisfaction. Just shy of the satisfaction she had gotten last night. She puts her sandwich down and grumbles at herself.

Naila's eyes dart up and narrow, "what was that?"

"Nothing. My brain is just doing odd things to me."

"Elaborate."

"She's not a witness, Nai, easy now."

The empty third space at their table is filled by cadmium yellow curls, scrub pants, and mid-heeled Mary Janes.

Maeva and Naila both watch Amelia take an enormous bite of her sandwich. It turns her face from an oval to a circle. She smiles at them around the mouthful of baguette. When her eyes reach Maeva, they get wide. She struggles to swallow

"My god, who are you sleeping with?"

"Excuse—" Maeva reaches for her throat, but her scarf is still well in place, "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Oh, then what is your scarf hiding?" Naila's eyebrows make probing triangles over her coffee cup. One immaculate brown line rises higher than the other, "wasn't that band you paint for in town? The one with the singer who wants to bang you?"

"Oh, Mae, you didn't!" Amelia squeals.

Maeva carefully tears the crust off her sandwich, "didn't what?"

"You're making too much eye contact," Naila never smirks. Her brows smirk for her, "is it true that you slept with someone last night?"

"Possibly," Maeva grumbles around her crust.

Amelia laughs, "and is it also true that this person was..." she snaps her fingers and looks a Naila, "what's his name?