Later, when I was closing the stall, Denny returned. The sun had dipped below the horizon, and darkness hovered.
“Need help?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“I had an idea.” Denny continued watching me work.
“I bet. Are you going to help me?”
For a second, he looked puzzled. “Oh, yeah.” He came over but made no move to help.
I shook my head and folded the legs of the table.
“So, I didn’t bring the curd because after tasting it today, the balance is off, too tart and not enough—”
“I get it, you’re a gastronomic genius. Hit me up when you’ve got the curd ‘balanced.’” I heaved the table onto my shoulders.
“You’re a dick.”
“A bit.” I walked away, swinging the end of the table in his direction.
“I don’t have friends here.”
“It’s a small town, so you’ll be up to your elbows in people and friends s
