Carson picked at his sandwich without energy. Every morsel he put in his mouth tasted like dust. His stomach churned, trying to reject the offering, but Carson kept shoveling the crumbs against his tongue, hoping to wake up his appetite. Another sandwich waited on the plate beside him. Paper-thin roast beef, thick tomatoes, and sweet red onions on thick ciabatta bread. He had taken the order from Edwin that morning over breakfast, excited to prepare yet another meal for Edwin.
Maybe he’s tired of you already.
Carson shook his head and pushed the thought out of his mind. Edwin wasn’t tired of him. Edwin certainly hadn’t seemed tired of him that morning. He was probably just tied up at work. That was why he hadn’t tried to call Carson. And that was why he didn’t answer his cell when Carson
