by Maria Zach
Americano, no milk
We bonded over crossword. Do you, by any chance, know the currency of Romania, she asked me. Our relationship escalated to pancakes for brunch. After we exhausted the newspapers on our floor, I went up to the library two floors above and nicked newspapers from there. Before long I was banned from the library. She couldn't walk up two sets of staircases. So we thought up puzzles; designed our own crosswords. When she tired, she mused out loud - I wonder whether the sky is clear. I'd disengage the brakes and wheel her outside and she'd turn her face up and tell me, I feel like a sunflower. Pretty little sunflower, I told her. Perhaps, I should have asked - how does one feel like a sunflower.