Lucy grins.
“So we’re going fancy? In that case, I’ll get the ravioli.”
When Deena sees us put our menus down, she comes over.
“What’ll you have?” she asks, pulling a pen from behind her ear. We give her our orders, and she scurries next door to put them in.
“So, how have you been? Anything new this week?”
I will my face not to turn red.
“Not really.Smexyis a dumpster fire, as usual.”
Lucy laughs.
“Deadline was yesterday, right? At least you had the day off.”
“Yeah, but today when I came in, it was like all hell broke loose. There was a typo on the front page.”
Lucy gasps dramatically.
“No, not a typo!”
I can’t help but giggle.
“It wasn’t even a typo, really. One word in one of the headlines wasn’t capitalized.”
“Scandalous!” she says. “I bet Greta had a fit over that.”
“She threatened to fire the entire copy room.”
“I’m so glad I don’t work there anymore. You need to get out before it’s too late.”
I shrug.
“It’s not so bad.”
Lucy rolls her eyes.
“Itisthat bad, and I have no idea why you stay.”
My shoulders fall.
“I don’t know where else I would go,” I admit.
“You could come work for the paper. I know you have a journalism degree.”
“No offense, but I’ll keep that as my backup plan.”
“No offense taken,” she laughs. “Can I say something honest?”
“Of course,” I say.
She leans forward a little, forcing me to meet her eyes.
“You’ve never seemed all that interested in journalism. Why did you major in it?”
“I used to love it,” I admit. “But the further I got into my degree, the less fun it was for me. I guess I lost that spark.”