On Saturday morning, I wake up early and go downstairs for breakfast. I find Diego eating a bowl of cereal at the table. He glances up at me before looking back down at his food. I sigh quietly as I pour myself a bowl of cereal. I make the adult decision to not run upstairs and instead, sit across from him and eat. It's awkward and silent.
"Hi..." I greet him.
"Hi," he responds.
"So, uh, how was the coffee shop last night?" I ask. He didn't stop by my room after work but it's not like I expected him to. I secretly hoped he would, though.
"Good," he answers dryly. I suddenly feel like an outsider; at one point, I was an insider. I could ask him about work and he'd fully go into detail about a stupid customer or about how he wanted to pour scalding hot coffee on himself because someone i
