“Thanks for cooking,” I say when I finish my bowl. “And for bringing me back from the pub last night. Sorry things got so… out of hand.”

“No problem. I’m glad I was there to help you.”

It’s a sweet thing to say, but there’s not a single ounce of affection or warm emotion in her voice. In fact, she looks visibly uncomfortable.

By then, the elephant in the room is unbearably obvious, so I blurt out, “We kissed.”

“We kissed,” she says it back matter-of-factly. “It’s fine. I know it was an accident. We should avoid drinking the next time we meet up, though. And maybe focus on work.”

“Right. Glad we’re on the same page.”

When we finish eating, she gets up to set the pot on the stove to cool off, and I take our spoons and now empty bowls and put them in the sink. It’s purely out of habit, since back at my friends’ apartment, I always help them clean up after a meal. So I don’t think about what I’m doing until Celeste stiffens.

“You could have just left everything on the table,” she says. “Thanks, though.”

A strained look crosses her face. And it’s only then that I realize how familiar this all is. Eating breakfast with Celeste and cleaning up together afterward.

I get a flashback of how Celeste’s hair looked first thing in the morning, messy yet still beautiful with the sunlight streaming in from the pink curtains of our bedroom. I remember all the hearts she drew while we ate our meals—either with ketchup or with gochujang, depending on whether we were eating American or Korean food. And I remember how we laughed almost every day we were together, often because we saw something funny on the internet or at school, but mostly because we just really liked being around each other.

The Celeste of today, cool and indifferent, might as well be a whole other person. And in a way, she is.

I back away from the kitchen. “I should get going. Thanks again for everything.”

Celeste’s eyebrows knit together, but she smiles politely, nevertheless. “No problem,” she says. “Get home safe.”

A quick Google Maps search tells me Celeste’s place is in Nob Hill and only a couple minutes’ walk from a cable car stop. I rarely ride cable cars, but since it’s the fastest way to the N Muni line, I end up riding one with a group of excited tourists. It’s a nice change of pace, and the happy squeals of kids as we go down the hills bring a smile to my face.