It wasn’t very long before they were sitting at a booth at Potter’s, a diner two blocks off the University’s campus. Lesley had on a pair of sneakers with blue jeans and an old white renaissance faire poet’s shirt.

      The waitress came up and set down their coffees and bowls of rice. “The rest will be out in a few minutes.”

      Kira smiled. “I’ll never know where they came up with this. Most places just serve grits.”

      Lesley swallowed down a big spoonful and grinned across the table at her. “Me either. But I’ll never go back to grits now.” Kira swirled hers with a spoon. “Brown rice, brown sugar, and buttermilk.” She shook her head gently.

      “This is the only place that’ll make the stuff. What do you do at home?”

      “Make it myself.”

      Silence greeted him from the other side of the table.