"Who else would it be?"
"I heard someone moving around. I thought—" He lowered the lamp, looking embarrassed. "I thought someone broke in."
"I was getting ready for my run."
"Your run." He stared at me. "It's still dark outside."
"That's when I run."
"That's insane. Normal people are sleeping right now."
"I'm not normal." I leaned against the doorframe, trying not to smile at the sight he made—rumpled and confused, clutching a lamp as if it could protect him from intruders. "Go back to sleep."
"I'm awake now." He untangled himself from the sheets with as much dignity as he could muster, which wasn't much. "My heart rate is about a thousand beats per minute. Sleep is no longer an option."
"Sorry."
"You don't sound sorry."
"I'm not. But it seemed polite to say."
He sat on the edge of the bed, running a hand through his chaotic hair. In my old Army t-shirt, with sleep creases on his face, he looked younger. More human.
"Is this going to be a regular thing?" he asked. "You waking me up terrified before dawn?"
"Every day. 0530. You'll get used to it."
"I absolutely will not get used to it."
"Then learn to sleep through it." I pushed off the doorframe. "I'll be back in forty minutes. Coffee will be ready when I return. Try not to destroy anything while I'm gone."
"At 5:30 in the morning, I make no promises."
I left him sitting on the bed, still looking like a startled owl, and went for my run.
When I returned forty minutes later, the apartment smelled like smoke.
I pushed through the door to find Tobias at the stove, wielding a spatula as if it had personally offended him. A pan sat on the burner, filled with what might have once been scrambled eggs but now resembled a small tire fire.
"What are you doing?"
He jumped, nearly dropping the spatula. "I was trying to—I wanted to do something useful. You've done so much, and I just—" He gestured helplessly at the smoking pan. "I've never actually cooked before."
I crossed to the stove and turned off the burner. The eggs had achieved a shade of brown that was almost impressive.
"You cremated them."
"I'm aware."
"They're actually smoking."
"I'm also aware of that." He scraped the ruined eggs into the trash with more force than necessary. "I thought eggs would be simple."
"They can be. But you have to start with butter, not direct flame."
He blinked. "Butter."
"Keeps them from sticking. And you have to keep moving them around."
