With that, I hang up.
I mean, seriously.
“Seriously!”
I am mildly surprised she stands in front of the entrance door outside twenty minutes later, because I thought she’d have more resistance, and it makes me suspicious.
I open the door for her, send the elevator downstairs with a swipe of the chip, and then I wait, leaning against the door frame.
She arrives, pushes a brown bag with sandwiches into my hand, and looks as moody as it can get.
“You will not make me fetch food ever again,” she says angrily.
“Is that a promise?” I ask, knowing I will most certainly make her do it again, now more than ever.
“So, what do you want to show me?” she says in a business voice.
“Let’s eat first,” I say. “Do you want wine?”
“I am working,” she snaps at me.
“And?”
“I don’t drink when working!”
“Too bad,” I say, ignoring her attitude. “I don’t have anything else.”
“Did I ask you for anything?”
“No,” I say, “I am trying to be nice here.”
She looks at me. I surprised her.
“Oh,” she says. “Well. Thank you, but I am not thirsty.”
One sentence and she purrs like a kitten. Fabulous.
“Here,” I say and hand her the sandwich that isn’t avocado. “Eat.” I sit down with mine on the floor, unwrap it and bite into it.
I didn’t know I was hungry until I smelled it. I have been so busy the last few days that I have mostly forgotten to eat or drink until I was in bed and everything was quiet.
She is rather disturbed by me sitting on the floor.
“Don’t you have a table?”
“No,” I say. “Don’t need one. I don’t have friends over, and I don’t cook, so why would I need one?”
“But—“
“But what? What else do I need a table for?”
She bites her lips to keep a comment from coming out of her mouth, and I laugh out loud with a full mouth.
“Don’t hold back,” I tell her. “Seriously, you have humor and try to hide it from me.”
“It was inappropriate,” she says.
“I am inappropriate all day, no judgment here.”
