A Deconstructed Heart by Shaheen Ashraf-Ahmed

said.
    “Oh, shut up.”
    They had arranged to meet for dinner a few days after the slideshow in Mirza’s garden. Mirza had told Amal that she must go, he insisted, and she had not protested. It felt good to be around young people again, she had to admit, and the fact that Rehan had said he would be there had made up her mind. He was sitting opposite her, and she did not think she was up to the job of eating spaghetti in front of him, so had ordered a salad that she really did not want and knew would leave her hungry. He had bent his face over his bowl and shoveled in the spaghetti without a break for breathing.
    Kiran was next to him, and he had brought his cousin Nikhil, who looked like a rougher version of him, shorter and stockier, with thick, shaggy black hair. Jason had arrived with his Carly, his girlfriend, and Amal had decided immediately that she liked her. She was quiet and wore glasses and had a devastatingly sarcastic sense of humor that Jason seemed to enjoy.
    Mi Piace was bright and airy with polished burgundy flooring and tiny vases of white flowers on each table. The windows were tall, almost from floor to ceiling and music, the requisite sauce for Italian dining, floated beneath their conversation. She did not want to go home. Sven took out his lighter and lit one end of the macaroon paper and it immediately floated up, almost to the ceiling, before burning to an ember, returning down as black specks of ash.
    “That’s dangerous,” said Amal, and the others looked at her with smiles.
    “You are such a goody-goody,” Vanessa said warmly, and she took Sven’s lighter and lit another, “that’s why I adore you.” Amal looked around for the manager, but she could not see him.
    “Not so good,” she said and reached over for the lighter. They each took turns setting their papers on fire, and for a moment, there were several in the air, dancing upwards as they burned themselves out.
    “It’s kind of sad,” said Kiran, his face tipped up, pointing at the last paper smoldering in the air. “Like life in microcosm.”
    There were groans from the table. “Oh my God,” said Sven, “Way to ruin a perfectly lovely evening. Thank you.” Amal laughed.
    Rehan said, “Kiran is always thinking about the big questions in life.”
    “That’s why he’s such a drag,” said Sven, turning to Vanessa, “remind me to never invite him to anything again.”
    “No, I think it’s beautiful. Thank you,” she nodded at Kiran, “for raising the tone. It’s sorely needed, after all the time I spend with Mountain Man over here.”
    Kiran shrugged.
    “There are two kinds of people,” said Rehan, “those that see the signs and stop and think, and those that don’t see anything, or do and choose not to.”
    “So that makes three kinds of people?” said Carly.
    “Five,” said Sven, “let’s not forget those that can do math and those that can’t.”
    “So I guess we know what kind you are?” said Amal. She felt, rather than saw Vanessa and Sven exchange glances.
    “Rehan got boring and middle-aged really fast,” said Sven affectionately. “This boy knew how to party. I turn up to uni, fresh-faced first year and all, and this guy is already sneaking one girl out of his room while another is trying to get in, and I have to run interference.” Rehan was looking down at his empty coffee cup. “I had a whole stock of creative excuses to save his neck when another pretty girl showed up at the wrong time.”
    “I thought he was a big player,” said Vanessa, pointing at Sven. “I always saw him talking to some crying girl, calming her down, and I hated him until I realized they weren’t his girlfriends, he was letting them down gently for Rehan. Then I hated him .”
    “Yeah, his love life was doing serious damage to mine. I was going to cut him loose, but then he sobered up and became a monk. I would get rid of you now, ‘cause you’re so boring, but I need a designated driver.”
    “Hey, you