The restaurant is packed, but the receptionist finds us a booth near the back next to a window. Ted orders an appetizer of Buffalo wings to start with a couple craft beers for the two of us. I take a gulp, expecting to savor the nutty taste of a beverage I loved before the accident, only to find the taste not to my liking. Back in my other life I didn’t like the taste of beer either. I wonder if it carried forward, but it doesn’t make a lot of sense to me. I push my glass toward Ted, ask him to give it a taste to see if there’s something wrong. When he shrugs and tells me it tastes all right to him, I frown. I guess my taste has really changed. There will be no more refills. My next drink will be a glass of wine.
The waitress comes with our appetizer and we order. Ted chooses the New York
