“Maybe I’m just being paranoid,” she said.

“That’s your job.”

“I don’t know, Jake. Your disguise is perfect. Nobody on earth who knew you back then would recognize you, and I’m not even a field operative anymore. But ever since your brother said you were heading into danger, I’ve had the chills.”

Jake sighed.

“You mean a feeling like we shouldn’t be together.”

They walked in silence to a pizza parlor. Feeling at home in America, Jake ate thick, dripping pizza washed down with a midgrade macro-brew while overhearing conversations in slight southern-style English. He wanted to enjoy the surroundings, but trying to drift incognito in the mainstream highlighted the widening rift between himself and any sense of normalcy.

It also opened the distance he felt with Olivia. Unable to talk about their lives in public, their conversation centered on current events, which were like goings on in an alternative reality.

Back at the hotel, Jake tossed in bed. Jetlag released him to sleep at two in the morning, and the sun was tracing a rhomboid across the floor when he awoke. He glanced at the night stand and scanned a scribbled note from Olivia telling him to take his time prior to joining her at Starbucks.

Jake’s mind buzzed with the excitation of being back in America, and he placed his bare feet on the carpet to orient himself. He debated lifting weights before showering when a feeble knock and inquisitive voice startled him.

“Housekeeping,” a woman said.