We are not.
This is breakfast after a night shift with a man who leaves after one more night.
Still.
There are some answers that make a person feel less like a negotiation.
“I agree” I say.
“I thought you might.”
“Because I look emotionally unavailable?”
“No.” He pauses. “Because you know the difference between caring and wanting to be responsible forever.”
That is annoyingly good.
I point my fork at him. “Stop being perceptive. It’s unsettling before nine in the morning.”
“I’ll try to be shallower after coffee.”
“Please do.”
He picks up his mug. “You have egg.”
I freeze. “What?”
“Sorry. Tiny bit. Corner of your mouth.”
Of course.
Of course this is what I get for having an honest conversation before I have slept.
I grab my napkin and swipe.
“Gone?”
“Other side.”
I swipe again.
His mouth twitches.
“Worse?” I ask.
“A little.”
“Excellent.”
“Do you want me to—”
He stops.
The question is unfinished, but I hear the rest of it.
Do you want me to get it?
Do you want me to touch you?
