You Can’t Sit with Them – 2

2  They sat cross-legged on the floor of their apartment, foil wrappers spread between them like ritual offerings. The kebab was messier than expected, garlic sauce dripping onto napkins, lamb charred just enough to taste like something real. Yelen had queued up a playlist: soft jazz, then a Polish indie band Osas couldn’t pronounce but liked all the same.  Osas chewed slowly, her phone balanced on her knee. She…...