I wake up to the sound of drip coffee instead of cries for the first time in weeks. Maybe I’ll get to drink half the mug while it’s still hot, too.

The nursery rocking chair squeaks when I settle into it. The white noise machine masks the sound, and I make a mental note to tighten the screws after the baby wakes.

I really should use this opportunity to pump because we don’t have any breast milk ...

Cordelia walks through a fog of patchouli floating out of an incense burner shaped like a dragon. The incense cone sits in an opening in its belly, and smoke pours out of its nostrils and burns hers. The smell gives her a headache, and her nose starts to drip.

She wipes her nose with her sweater sleeve, rubs her watery eyes, and looks around for a shelf of books. But this store isn’t separated in...

“I’m just so tired of the way he talks to me—like I’m stupid or something,” Mel says into an earpiece as she approaches the café counter. She catches my eye, fishes a fiver out of her purse, and hands it to me. “The usual, please.”

I smile and nod, putting the cash in the register and taking the excess for the tip jar as she takes a seat at a nearby table.

I pack a portafilter with espresso and...