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"Just quiet for a minute."

"Okay. I'll sit here quietly, and you tell me when you're ready for me to talk." I made good on my word and sat down on the thick armchair beside the window.

Clem paced heatedly for about a minute, but eventually she slowed to a saunter when she came to stand by the window. She looked out into the city streets below with her shoulder pressed against the glass cool enough to fog up around her body.

It wasn't but five minutes or so when she finally said, "You can talk now," with softened tone.

"Hi," I whispered, and she smiled without looking at me. As always, I admired her casual beauty. Even on a Sunday, she wore deep burgundy slacks with her saddle shoes, and a white blouse cuffed to her elbows. Her hair hung lose down her back, with light, natural curls toward the bottom.

She waved at me, still smiling but staring outside.

"I didn't expect to see you here," I said, still keeping my voice soft.

"I'm glad you're here," she said, equally delicate. "Did you hear it?"

"Hear what?"

"What I said to Phoebe?"

I nodded. "Sure. Yeah. She's very very smart. She reminded me of you a little bit when she was talking about science things."

"She is autistic," she whispered, though I noticed she started tapping her fingers again.

"I know. I heard that, too." I stood up slowly when whatever helped calm her down seemed to begin fading again.

She glanced at me and said, "Me too."

I nodded, then leaned my shoulder against the window opposite her. "I know."

Her lips pressed together, and the tapping in her palm grew so fast I could hear the rhythmic sound. With caution, I let my fingers brush against the back of her hand until I snuck my index finger into her palm. Straightaway, she stopped the movement and gave my finger a squeeze.

"Do you dislike me now?"

"How could I ever dislike you?" My insides melted to a puddle. "You're incredible, Clem."

"You're not tired of me?"

"No way." I leaned carefully forward until my forehead was an inch from hers. "I can't get enough of you, to be honest."

"Autism is hard sometimes…"

"Will you teach me about it? So that I know more?"

She nodded, and tears welled in her eyes despite her small smile.

"Then we'll be okay. Is it okay to hug you?"

"You can always hug me unless I tell you not to," she said, her voice a whisper. "Sound."

"Sound bothers you more. Good to know." I held my arm to her, and she moved toward me, dropping her head on my shoulder when I slid my hand around her waist.

"I think you have acquired evidence in your back pocket," she said, her hand on my rear. "Perhaps you shouldn't smuggle blood and brain matter in your pants."

"Oh my God ew. Send help." I yanked the bag out and held it as far away from me as possible.

Clem giggled her head off suddenly. "You should burn your pants."

"You just want me to burn them because they're holey. I see your motives, girl."