Later that day I found myself in Barrett’s kitchen. It felt like things hadn’t changed, like nothing had happened from the last time I had seen him. I laughed to myself. I was being made a fool by a desperate heart. Things had changed.
“This is bizarre,” I said, staring at the large frying pan Barrett had pulled out of a cabinet underneath his sink before returning to the family room couch.
“What?” Barrett called, disinterest plain in his voice.
There were no walls between the rooms so I could hear him clearly, I could even hear his finger clacking on his laptop’s keyboard.
“That I’m making you dinner. That I’m in your apartment.” I found I wasn’t able to control what I was saying and quickly began chopping some large leaves of Swiss chard I had brought with me.
“What?” I heard him re
