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“No, Saaanya with an “A.” My parents had a seven-month long debate on
whether I would be Sonia or Sandra, so they went Super Saiyan and merged my
name. Because Sandra Sonia or Sonia Sandra was not going to fly.”

“Sanya…” he says my name like he is trying to remember where he’s heard it.
He rubs his light-brown goatee as he thinks; a hint of recognition shines in his eyes.
“Sanya Shaw? As in HR?”
My nod is affirmative. “You got me. I promise I’m not part of The HR.” It is
out of my mouth before I can consider that he may not catch my reference. Not
everyone watches the same shows and he just might view me as an idiot who doesn’t
know my job function.

His smile deepens. Smile lines crinkle the corner of his eyes, and he flashes his
nice teeth. It is a genuine smile. “Of course not. You seem too nice, and you are not
a cop or anyone with political power.” He holds up a finger before continuing like
he is about to impart some deep wisdom. “Also, we don’t live in New York.”
“You got me again. We are not even on eastern time,” I laugh. “Central, Baby,”
he quips.
Then, I feel the now familiar flutter. He isn’t actually calling me his baby; I
know better. I just never expected to hear him say “baby” while talking to me unless
he was saying something like, “Look at this picture of my baby.”

“It’s nice to know that there is another Person of Interest fan in the building.”
He nods. “I’ve seen every episode of the series.”
“Me, too!” I exclaim, entirely too eagerly causing him to laugh a little. I am
going to have a stern intrapersonal conversation later. I am not here for Henri in a

romantic sense. I’ve never thought about him outside of work, and if I did, he was
that engineer on the 7 floor who loves physical fitness. So how did I find myself
th
in the stairwell babbling to him like a thirteen-year-old with a crush?
Henri sobers, and everything in his body language suggests he is about to
dismiss me. He repositions his items and grabs the thermos that he’d tucked under
his arm at the beginning of our conversation. “Well, this was fun…” he begins.
I interrupt him before he can finish. “Hey, I wanted to ask you a question. Are
you free after work for a few minutes so we can go to the coffee shop downstairs
and have a brief discussion? It shouldn’t take longer than thirty minutes.” My
nerves amp up more than I expect as I await his answer.