[Perspective: Aryan Spencer]

  The first bite is always the moment of truth. You can fake a lot of things in life… but you cannot fake the reaction of a human body to a mouthful of spices.

  I watched her over the rim of my glass, clutching it like a shield. Wanda sat opposite me, the steam from the plate curling up between us. She picked up a piece of the garlic naan, the butter glistening under the kitchen's pendant lights and scooped up a chunk of the red stained chicken along with a slice of onion.

  She brought it to her lips.

  I held my breath. My heart was doing a frantic drum solo against my ribs. If she hated it, if she choked, if she politely spat it into a napkin... I was going to have to open a portal to the dark dimension and just live there out of pure embarrassment.

  She chewed slowly. Her eyes drifted shut.

  One second.

  Two seconds.

  Three seconds.

  "Oh god," I thought, glancing at the invisible audience watching my life play out. "She's analyzing the molecular structure. She's realizing I'm a fraud. She's about to turn me into a newt."

  She swallowed. Her eyes opened and the green in them wasn't clouded by the grey fog of trauma. They were bright.

  "Well?" I prodded, unable to handle the silence any longer. "Is it 'Call the Health Inspector' bad, or 'I might actually finish this without being coerced' good? Give it to me straight, Wanda. I'm a doctor, I can handle bad news."

  Wanda let out a breath and a small puff of steam seemed to escape with it. She reached for her water glass, taking a long sip before looking back at me.

  "It is... a lot," she admitted, setting the glass down.

  "A lot good? or a lot 'my tongue is on fire'?"

  "The heat," she said, touching her chest lightly. "It stays in the back of the throat."

  "That's the ginger and the Kashmiri chili," I explained, leaning forward, eager to defend my culinary honor. "It's a slow burn. It's meant to remind you that you're still alive. Prescriptions dull the senses, spices sharpen them. That's my medical opinion, anyway."

  Wanda looked at the naan in her hand, inspecting the charred bubbles on the dough. "And your medical opinion on the butter?" she asked, a dry amusement coloring her tone. "There is a significant amount of it."

  "Essential for cardiovascular lubrication," I lied effortlessly, swirling my water. "Don't look it up. The journals haven't caught up to my research yet. Big Pharma is trying to suppress the healing properties of garlic infused ghee. It's a conspiracy."

  You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

  Wanda let out a sound that was almost a laugh. She seemed to deflate into the chair, the rigid posture she had held in the car finally softening. The heavy weight of her grief was still there, sitting in the corner of the room like an unwanted guest, but for now, the smell of garlic and smoke was keeping it at bay.

  "You talk a lot for someone who claims to be retired, Aryan," she noted, tearing off another piece of naan. "Is this how you treated your patients? By overwhelming them with words until they agreed to get better?"

  "It's a proven tactic," I shrugged, taking a bite of my own food. "Most people just want to be heard. Or they want someone to distract them from the pain. I was always better at the distraction part. If I'm talking, you're not thinking about the needle in your arm or the bad news on the chart. It's verbal anesthesia."

  Wanda chewed thoughtfully. "Distraction," she murmured. "It is a useful tool."

  "The most useful," I agreed. "So, tell me, neighbor. What brought you to Westview? Aside from the thrilling nightlife and the world renowned grocery store yogurt selection?"

  Wanda looked down at her plate. She pushed a lemon slice around with her fork.

  "It seemed... quiet," she said softly. "I needed quiet. The city, the world... it is too loud right now. Everyone is celebrating. Everyone is happy that the people returned."

  She looked up, her gaze piercing. "But not everyone returned."

  I stopped chewing. I put my fork down.

  "No," I said, dropping the physician persona for a moment. "They didn't."

  "You said you were Blipped," Wanda said, her eyes searching mine. "Did you lose someone? When you came back?"

  Technically, I lost everyone, I thought. I lost an entire universe.

  "I did," I said, keeping my voice steady. "Time moved on. People... didn't make it. When I came back, the house I grew up in was gone. My family was gone. It's just me now. Just the memory of what used to be."

  Wanda nodded slowly. "Then you understand. The quiet is better."

  "The quiet is safe," I agreed. "But..." I gestured to the platter between us. "Sometimes, loud food helps. You can't be sad when your mouth is trying to figure out if it's happy or burning."

  She smiled… a genuine smile. "It is a confusing sensation."

  "High praise," I grinned. "I'll take it."

  We ate in a comfortable silence for a few minutes. The only sounds were the scrape of forks and the clinking of glass. It felt dangerously normal.

  I watched her eat. She ate with a kind of reverence, as if she had forgotten what food tasted like. She squeezed the lemon over the chicken with precision, ensuring every bite had that hit of acid.

  My eyes drifted to her hands again. Specifically, the way her fingers held the lemon slice.

  [Flashback.]

  My Wanda, sitting on the counter, juice running down her wrist, laughing.

  "It stings!" she'd cried, sucking her thumb.

  "That's because you have a paper cut, genius," I'd laughed, handing her a towel.

  [Back to reality]

  The image overlaid the reality in front of me. The current Wanda squeezed the lemon. The past Wanda laughed. The two images blurred, vibrating against each other.

  I found myself staring. Just staring at her fingers, lost in the ghost of a memory that belonged to a dead world. My chest tightened, a physical ache that started in the sternum and radiated outward.

  "Aryan?"

  The voice snapped me back.

  Wanda was looking at me. Her fork was lowered. Her expression was concerned, bordering on alert.

  "You are staring at the lemons," she said quietly. "Are you okay?"

  I blinked, clearing the moisture that had gathered in the corners of my eyes. I reached for my water glass, my hand trembling slightly. I took a gulp, trying to wash down the lump in my throat.

  "Yeah," I rasped. I cleared my throat. "Yeah. Sorry. Just... spaced out for a second. The spices must be getting to my brain."