There will be leftovers for days.
It’s so good to be able to have Thanksgiving dinner with somebody again.
We pile food onto our plates and eat in the living room because there’s no space for us to sit at the kitchen table. The stereo plays Mozart softly in the background.
I attack my dinner with desperate abandon.
He gets a pained look on his face.
“What is it?” I ask.
There is a moment of awkward silence. Finally, he answers, “You’re obviously starving. I’m not blind; this isn’t the first time I’ve seen you eat like you’ll never get another meal again, and I’ve noticed you losing weight over the course of the past couple of weeks or so. And you can’t afford to lose weight; you never had much padding to begin with. I hate to ask this, because you seem to be rather sensitive abou
