My best thought from today’s very very very rough draft. Emily lead her out of the lab, and back to their apartment, where she pulled out Julie’s ponytail and made her coffee. They talked about the city. Emily the whole time fell over herself gossiping. Did you hear about Joseph?  Julie’s ears perk up at the name, No.  I heard decided to stay in Chicago. She mumbled, dropping tablespoons in to the french press, he is in a fight with his family. Do you want some?  Julie shook her head and made a conscious effort to relax her shoulders. I’ve never heard him speak about them.  His family?  Yeah. Has he said anything to you? No, Nothing.  She leans over the table, Here’s the thing with him. She says, I just don’t understand him.  As Julie parted her lips to speak, Emily drummed forward: There’s never been a moment with him when I wasn’t absolutely sure he wasn’t lying. Emily has stopped scooping tablespoons. Julie stares at the the silverware stopped on the counter, the grounds spilling from the spoon. She blushes, and lies: I’m not sure if I know exactly what you mean.  In fact, his appeal lie wholly in his false-front, amateur-suaveness; his eyebrows always tensed up, his pauses always lengthy, as if he’d just turned eighteen and had closed the rebellious phase of his life one notch too early, in the interest of my peers, she could heard him saying, they think I’m stronger than I am.  After that, not much else of the conversation interested her. She found Emily across from her asking, what are you thinking?  Nothing, she lied,  that’s just very interesting. and go on— finishing her sentence only to return to her daydreaming. So, she passed he afternoon idly, by its close finding herself fitted in the subtlest of Emily’s heels and a very black dress.   This was a good idea, Emily said, rubbing Julie’s shoulder as they left. When they arrived, the rest of them were sitting at the bar with their elbows on the cedar. She stares at the man.Emily’s laugh feels permanent, weighty, like bubbles in honey.   Joseph turns. His eyes are on her heavily and she feels as she might waking, having found him, chin on clasped hands, sitting at the foot of her bed.    He takes a full second to himself before he moves. Playing with the hair at his widow’s peak, he is staring still. His eyes are low as in speech giving, not a  where did you come from look and not a that is a very lovely dress you have on look; it is a what I am living now is a young and very whole life look. An I am very sorry that I never recognized the same in you. look.  From below her stomach she experiences a terrible lurching.