aperture | d.h

f o u r

'Yeah? That can't be healthy.'

I shrug, even though he can't see. 'Not particularly. But it's the grind, I guess. Graduate life.'

'I guess I can't relate to that one as much.'

I smile at nothing in particular. 'I guess you can't.'

And I realise then we're just talking, and I've passed my station and I don't seem to care about it at all. This shift from work to friends is unusual for me, and unfamiliar, so I stiffen up a little. 'Anyway. How can I help you?'

'Oh, right,' Dan says. 'The ideas, and the people. Could I talk about it with you?'

'Sure. When?'

'Tonight?'

I blink. 'Oh. I mean, like, right now?'

Dan seems to back-peddle on the phone. 'Oh, like, only if you're not doing anything. Which you probably are. Sorry. I know it's not in your work hours.'

I laugh a little, although I'm bummed to be missing out on my night alone digging into takeaway and watching Netflix. 'It's okay, Dan. If there's one thing I've realised about this job, it's that it's no nine-to-five. Where do you want to meet?'

'Um...' Dan thinks for a moment. 'We can just meet at my place, if you want. Phil's ordered some Indian takeaway, so that's dinner sorted.'

Something in my head screams yes! But I'm a little uncomfortable going to Dan's house - he is, in many ways, a co-worker, and this smudging of the line between friend and colleague is leaving me feeling a bit sticky inside. Maybe Dan is feeling the same way, because he says, 'I know it's a little personal. I just figured it was an easier space to work in compared to a restaurant or something.'

'No, definitely,' I say, shaking my head. It's just work, Nat. 'I'll be over by, like, half-eight. Text me your address?'

'Perfect. I'll see you then.'

'Bye Dan.'

And so I pocket my phone, smiling a little to myself, and get out my Oyster card.

Dan lives in the kind of area I imagined he would - quiet, lazy, and understated. Brick houses with slate rooves and big white windowsill gardens line streets packed with cars, and everything is so overwhelming English I almost laugh. I love places like this - they make me feel at home, somehow.

I glance down at my phone, where he's written his address. I look back up at the brightly-painted doors, finding myself at number 35.

I knock once, hoping it was loud enough, and rock on my feet for a moment while I wait for someone to come to the door. There's a slight shadow moving behind the textured glass on the side of the door, and then the lock clicks and the door swings open. Dan stands behind, giving me a big smile.

'Natalie! Come on in,' he says, holding the door open for me. I mumble a thank you, slipping my shoes off. Dan takes my coat and hangs it on a hook my the door, the house toasty with the internal heating.

'Ooh, it's warm in here, and it smells like Indian food,' I tell him, and I hear rustling in the kitchen. This must be the mysterious Phil, I think, whom I have yet to meet.

It is indeed Phil, and we do the typical handshake-greeting and then he goes back to plating up the various Indian dishes. My mouth waters as I watch the food slop onto the plates - I haven't eaten in more than eight hours. My stomach opens up like a cavern inside me, letting out an angry rumble with it.

Both Phil and Dan look up at me, and I blush. Dan cocks his face into a smile, a dimple popping in one of his cheeks. 'Bit hungry?'

My face burns. 'Just a bit.'