Jack leads me into a small kitchen consisting of a counter that doubles as a bar, two simple barstools, a small window above the sink that looks over nothing, and the normal appliances. The counters were cleared of all the typical kitchen paraphernalia, except the fanciest coffee maker I’ve ever seen, a blender, and another stainless-steel appliance I can’t name.
I carefully slide onto the barstool and prop my elbows on the counter, desperate to get my mind on something else. “What’s that?” I point to the contraption that looks like a cross between a meat grinder and a bread maker.
He looks up to where I point, and the faintest smile twitches his lips. “A juicer.”
“A what?”
“It makes juice, you know from fruits and veggies.” The look on my face must’ve said it all because he shakes his
