Emma and Henry stumble into the apartment, taking a deep breath, relieved to be away from that airport. They both scrunch their noses and look at the kitchen.

Emma swats Henry's arm. "You forgot to take out the trash."

"Me?" Henry smacks her hand away. "What about the fridge?" He swings open the fridge doors and grimaces. "I don't know why you ever buy squash. You don't eat them, and they get nasty."

"I was trying to be healthy. You know, for your mom."

Henry rolls his eyes. "Okay, Ma." He shoulders his bag and heads for his room. "You clean out the fridge then I'll take out the trash."

Emma groans. "Fine." She drops her bag and shuffles the trash can to the fridge with her feet. With a grimace matching Henry's as she looks in the fridge, she uses the tips of her fingers to scoot rotten zucchini and squash from the shelf to the can at her feet. She jumps back and whines when the squash hits the lip of the can and splatters on her.

"Henry," she fusses. "This is gross."

"Not my problem," he calls from the bedroom.

She huffs. To herself, "Then I'm not cleaning off the trash can. Take that little boy." She uses a paper towel to remove the grime from her jeans then scoops out the zucchini and some moldy cheese.

Shuffling through the fridge for more expired food, she uncovers a red apple. Her fingers close around it. Pulling it from the fridge, she lets the door swing shut as her eyes bore holes into the fruit held delicately between her fingers. A single tear rolls down her cheek. Irritated with herself, she wipes away the tear and slams the apple in the trash.

"Your turn," she hollers to Henry, grabbing her bag and moving toward her bedroom.

Henry passes her with a smirk on his face. As the waft hits him, he gags. "Why do we even buy food that expires? And since when do we buy apples?" He pulls on the ties to secure the bag. A hip check knocks him to the side a bit. He looks up to see Emma at his side. "What the hell, Ma?"

Without a word, Emma retrieves the apple from the trash can. She carefully washes it in the sink while Henry's eyes follow the apple in her hand. After drying it off, she centers it on the bar, turning the best part out. She jumps when Henry retrieves the paper towel from her hand.

"I'll be right back, Ma," he says quietly. As he closes the door, he notices Emma still staring at that apple.

The next morning, Emma and Henry lean heavily on the bar, legs dangling from the barstools. Emma drags her finger around the apple while Henry, eyes barely open, shovels cereal in his mouth. He drops his spoon on the counter, causing Emma to jump. She sits up and rubs her eyes.

Henry pushes both spoon and empty bowl into the sink. "I've got to get ready for school."

"Need a ride?" Emma asks absentmindedly.

Henry stares at her. "Um… no? It's walking distance, Ma. They didn't exactly move it."

Emma scratches at her forehead. "Right. Okay, enjoy class. Need me to write a note or anything?"

"It's not high school either, Ma. I've got the documents from the hospital." Henry studies her. "You okay?"

"Tired." Emma takes a gulp of her coffee. She sits up to place it in the sink as well. Her fingers lightly graze the apple as she sits back. "Gonna shower before meeting Gen, so I won't see you until this afternoon."

"Evening," Henry corrects. "I have a feeling I will be bouncing between professors' offices for make-up work."

"Be good, kid," Emma pats his shoulder as she steps past him.

He raises an eyebrow and watches her trudge to her bedroom. Glancing at the counter, his eyes settle on the apple. He reaches for it then stops himself, and instead, he retrieves his phone from his pocket. Pressing on a contact he raises the phone to his ear and waits. "Hi, Mom," he says into the phone as he moves to his bedroom to get ready.

Phone resting in folded hands atop crossed legs, Gen watches the road in front of the café. Emma approaches from behind, and without turning, Gen addresses her, "Good morning, Ms. Swan. I was starting to fear you had grown accustomed to sleeping later."

Emma stops short and stares at the back of Gen's head. She quickly moves to take the seat across from Gen. "How'd you know it was me?"

"Your boots have a distinct sound." Gen keeps her eyes on the road.

Emma glances down at her boots then back up at Gen. "You've been listening to my shoes?"

Gen shifts her eyes to lock onto Emma's. "I find them difficult to ignore. Are you ready?"

"You sure seem to be." Emma leans back in her seat and looks for the waiter. "I could use a coffee first."

Gen looks over her shoulder into the café and holds up one finger to the barista. After a nod of acknowledgment, she turns back to Emma. "The double shot of espresso should do you well."

"Who are you?" When Gen simply raises an eyebrow, Emma continues, "You and I have been here only twice now. There's no way you could have come here enough times for the barista to know your order."

"Oh, never take a barista for granted, dear."

Emma rolls her eyes. "Whatever. She probably just thinks you're hot."

"Is she wrong?" Gen challenges.

With a chuckle, Emma checks out Gen. "No. No, she's not."

Gen smirks when the barista hands delivers the drink to her. Gen winks at her and hands her a ten dollar bill.

As she leaves, Emma laughs. "You're buying her affection too, I see."

Gen slides the drink over to Emma. "She makes a great cup for the right price."

With a fading chuckle, Emma raises the glass to her lips. Her eyes widen at the small sip. "Holy crap. It's so good." Gen's smirk and light shrug cause Emma to chuckle. "You are rather proud of yourself."

"I have yet to hear a reason why I should feel otherwise." Gen checks the time on her watch. "We are due in fifteen minutes."

The cup stops at Emma's lips as she pauses to sigh. "And there's the real world I've been missing." Rolling her eyes, Emma tips the mug up to drink the espresso.