"It has only been a few days," Greta says. It's the most encouraging thing she can think of, since she has no idea what Iman's plans could be. "I'm sure you'll work something out." Soon, hopefully. There's no charm in having to avoid her dearest friend, and she doesn't want this to be the new normal. (Though what's the alternative? She can't imagine Iman returning to work or resuming her visits, as if nothing unpleasant ever happened between her and ROMAC.)

Iman's surprisingly sheepish comment draws Greta out of her dour contemplations. It even prompts a smile - a little sad, but no less fond for that. "I've missed you," she admits, reaching up to make a little adjustment to Iman's hijab, smoothing out a wrinkle borne of her earlier fidgeting. "Of course," she adds, drawing her hand back, "they have been keeping me busy." Enough so that she's a little surprised to have landed this much uninterrupted sleep, now that she's thinking about it. Her smile turns wry. "I have twins."