"Would you like to get coffee?" she asked suddenly. "I know it's strange. But I think we both could use someone who understands."
I should have said no. This wasn't my world. She wasn't my Nina. Getting involved would only make everything more complicated.
"Yes," I said. "I'd like that."
That was my first mistake.
Mira was Nina in all the ways that mattered, and different in all the ways that didn't.
Same laugh. Same way of tilting her head when she was thinking. Same habit of tapping her fingers when she was nervous.
But she was warmer. More open. My Nina hid behind her genius; Mira wore her heart on her sleeve.
She was a therapist. Ironic, considering I desperately needed one.