A very soft rain fell as Joe and Anya walked in silence along the trash-filled street. Not quite enough rain to warrant an umbrella on such a short stroll, but Joe pulled his jacket collar up tight around his neck. As they neared the little taqueria, Anya said, “Joe, I’ve been offered a job with ABW. I wanted you to know, because…well…I think…you should consider it. It’s going to be hard finding another job out there.” Stunned that Anya was leaving, Joe didn’t say anything. I’m not ready for this, he thought. Anya was his sole confidante at work, and he had otherwise not been very successful at lasting friendships. Not that he didn’t, occasionally, feel a need for a social life, but he knew that his reserved nature didn’t make it easy for others to get close. And, as a single parent, he didn’t have much of a life outside work, in any case. He listed the reasons in his mind, but none of them entirely washed. The truth was, when he socialized with his colleagues, he felt an acute sense of alienation, not from anyone specifically, but from comfortable humanity in general.
 
     “I think you have to move soon,” Anya continued, “I don’t think they’re going to take all of us. I don’t see how they can.”
 
     “I know, Anya,” he said. And he did know, had known for some time, that he wouldn’t be allowed to wait until the last minute. And yet, somehow, he couldn’t prompt himself to take action. “Will you still be located here?” he queried, “Or will you go to the new complex?”
 
     “I don’t know, Joe. I’ve asked to stay, but I guess I’ll go where they send me.”
 
     “I’ll miss our talks.”
 
     “We don’t have to lose touch, you know.”
 
     “I suppose you’re right,” he said, but he had doubts. They would call each other for a while, have lunch once or twice, then drift apart. It always seemed to go that way.
 
     The young woman behind the counter informed them that there were no flour tortillas or soyburger today, so they ordered soyless tacos made of corn tortillas and chatted about office trivia until the food came. He was relieved that Anya didn’t bring up ABW again. He studied her face as they talked, trying to read some personal meaning into it. She was strikingly pretty, in a slightly offbeat sort of way. She wore no makeup, but her cheeks and her lips had a deep rosy color when she was flushed from the cold wind. She had a high-bridged Adriatic nose, unlike the other Ukrainians he knew. Perhaps she had some southern European heritage. Her small mouth had a permanent downturn at the edges, which gave her a serious appearance, even when she was being lighthearted, as she was now. She played this feature to good effect, exhibiting a droll sense of humor. She was very lovely, really. He hated his self-consciousness and indecision about her.
 
     “So, how is Jessie doing?” Anya asked as he bit into his burrito.
 
     Jessie. He chewed until his mouthful became manageable. “She’s been missing a lot of school, lately. Doesn’t talk to me, much. I don’t know what’s going on with her.”
 
     “It’s probably just that age,” said Anya. “It’s tough for girls. I was a horrible little brat at fourteen.”
 
     “I’ve gone home during the school day, twice now, to find her in her room on the damned grid. Twice, Anya. In five years, I’ve gone home early exactly twice, and both times I’ve found her there. So, how many more times has this happened? And her school has absolutely no idea. Do they even take roll anymore?”
 
     “Well, Joe, if it’s any consolation, I dropped out of school at fifteen. Got my G.E.D. It’s not the end of the world. I’m not saying you shouldn’t try to find out what’s wrong, and be a supportive father and all that. I’m just saying…you know?”
 
     “Thanks, Anya. I know she has to live her own life. It’s just hard is all.”
 
     Anya reached out, took his hand in hers, and smiled. “Yeah, Joe, I know,” she said.