“Okay, you were completely right about this,” I say as I bite into the fluffiest buttermilk pancakes I’ve ever eaten. “This place does have the best pancakes. And I don’t think it’s just in Connecticut. They might have the best pancakes in the whole country. Maybe the world.”
“I told you.” Dominic ordered the blueberry pancakes, which also looked good. “You know, we should make this a Sunday thing.”
“What do you mean?”
“Like every Sunday, we’ll come here for breakfast. It’ll be like our own little tradition.”
“I don’t have money to eat out every week. And since I can’t seem to find a job on campus, I don’t see Sundays at Al’s Pancake House in my future. Although that would be superb. I could eat these pancakes every day.”
He sighs and sets his fork down. “Why won’t you just let me
