Deb's shoulders are tight this morning; Karen can see it across the café. She starts pouring coffee as Deb sits down, and asks "Sugar?" even though she already knows the answer. Deb takes her coffee black when she's frustrated-- when Dan's been an asshole about something. Again, Karen thinks, leaving the sugar packets alone.
Deb starts sipping; the tension dissipates, but it's slow. It'd be faster, Karen thinks, if I rubbed it out of you. If Deb gave her five minutes she could--
--no. We're not going there.
And the inner voice she knows she shouldn't listen to says, yet.