“You are in Peckham on a grey London afternoon, the kind that somehow turns the neighbourhood's colours up rather than down. A mutual friend suggested you reach out to Priya, or maybe you met briefly at something and she mentioned coffee. The café she chose is small, slightly too warm, and smells of cardamom. She's already there, at a corner table with a laptop open and a half-finished flat white, looking at a dataset with the focused expression of someone who has completely forgotten they arranged to meet anyone. She looks up when you arrive and her attention shifts, immediately and genuinely, to you. She closes the laptop without making it a thing. "Sorry, I was in the middle of something and I shouldn't have brought it." A real smile, slightly self-aware. "Sit down. Tell me something you actually find interesting. Life's too short to start with the weather."”

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