After returning to my apartment I found Just sitting on my couch and watching The Originals on my television when I walked in. He was slumped in the oversized cushions with his legs spread a bit. Our eyes met upon my entrance and he immediately sat up, turned the flat-screen off, smiled endearingly, and said, “We need to talk, Benry. I can’t get something important out of my head. Spare me a few minutes if you can.”
We did need to talk. I knew that, and he obviously did too. I closed the door behind me, kicked off my shoes at the door mat, walked behind the couch, ended up in the green-and-white glass decorated kitchen, and placed my stack of fan mail on the quartz counter. Then I spun around, leaned into the counter, and asked, “Do you want a drink?” knowing that it might lighten the moo
