The walk from this room to the kitchen is so long and so quiet that I'm vibrating with nerves when we finally reach the kitchen, ten years later.
"What do you want to cook?" Theo asks and walks over to the fridge to inspect what's in there. It's bursting with all kinds of stuff. The good stuff, of course.
"What's your favorite food?" I ask, standing to the side of him to observe everything as well. Theo frowns as he thinks, "You don’t have one on the top of your head?"
"Not really, I guess I don't think much about food," he mumbles, "I'm so busy all the time, I just eat whatever someone puts in front of me."
"That's the saddest thing I've ever heard," I say in all honestly and the awkwardness breaks a little because Theo laughs. Theo laughing in those casual clothes and his hair all m
