I leave the hotel room in the morning before Marcelo can come and grill me about my evening with Saif. I don’t know what to tell Marcelo. Saif left me here at the door to my hotel room with a kiss on the cheek. I wouldn’t blame him one bit if he returned to his place, slept on everything that happened, and decided I was too much work. No matter how long he had dreamed about dating me. Dreams are often not reality, and my problems are way too real for most men.
Instead of spending the money on an autocab, I grab a coffee and take the bus across town to the spaceport where the Amagi is docked. I sit and stare out the window; I’m one of the few that do. Everyone else is reading from a datapad or staring straight ahead at whatever they see on their ocular implant. I’m afraid to access my home screen or inbox. I’m sure the gossip sites have dirt on me today — stories about Saif and me, rumors about Takemo and me at odds. Most of them will be correct, and I should face them head-on, but I don’t want to. Vivian used to put her head in the sand when it came to the things people said about her on the duonet, and I didn’t agree with that. I should live up to my own standards.