ELEVEN
Had this food court not shared the same floor space as the supermarket, Kalila wouldn’t have dragged Datu all the way here. It was pretty chaotic and loud, especially now that the three tables next to them were occupied by a group of titas who seem to have not seen each other in eons. But she needed peanut butter. Now.
So here they were, seated in the middle of a crowded food court at noon—Datu, with his steaming bowl of La Paz batchoy and her, with her bag of kamias and tiny jar of Lily’s Peanut Butter—and Kalila couldn’t help but feel like something shifted between them. He had been rather contemplative after the doctor’s appointment, even more so after the visit to Happy Paws.
Perhaps she had asked too much of him on his first day back?
She was twisting open her jar of peanut
