Kira slides the menu back across the table without opening it.
She doesn’t look down.
“I… I don’t know what you mean.” kira noir ordering off the menu
She smiles. It doesn’t reach her eyes. Kira slides the menu back across the table
Kira picks up her fork — not the one on the table, but the one she brought in her own coat pocket. Silver. Old. Worn smooth by fingers that have ordered off the menu in seventeen countries. kira noir ordering off the menu