The straw kept spinning in her milkshake,
round  and  round,  led by lazy fingers andÂ
an  even  lazier  look  on  her  face.  Isn't  it
ironic?, that '90s song played in  her head.
Isn't it ironic, how his straw keeps spinning
round  and  round,  and  I  keep  spinning
round and round, and I  don't  even  know
what's chasing after me? Â
        She   really  had  no  idea  what  she  wasÂ
        running  from;  journalists,   yes  (one  had
        called  a  few  days  earlier,   asking  if,  byÂ
        chance,  she  had  changed  her  last  name
        from Murray to Holmes — she still  shivered
        thinking  about  how  close  they  were  toÂ
        finding  her  again),  but  maybe  something
        more, something else, something...Â
"Uh?",   Holmes  realized  Claudio  wasÂ
speaking  only  when it  was too late, and
she had no  idea what  he  had  just  said.
"I'm  sorry,  I  ——",  she  stuttered,  eyes
fluttering  downward  to  her  milkshake,
quickly   catching   the   straw   between
her lips. "I was distracted". She mumbled
an  apology  (a  lazy  one,  to  be  sure)
and  the  light   smile   on   her   face
couldn't hide the tiredness in her voice.