Britta watched Milo eat his food thoughtfully, so at home in his kitchen with a traditional German dish. She didn’t tell him that this stew had always been her favorite until she’d shunned everything and started telling people her favorite food was pizza because that seemed to be a normal type of food to like. Milo was German to the core, and he was proud of who he was. Britta wondered briefly if she would be different if she’d embraced who she was instead of running from her foundations.
“Let’s see. I feel for music the same way you do for books. Does that make sense?” Milo tilted his head to one side with a half smile.
“Like life wouldn’t be life without music?” Britta nodded. “I get it.”
“So life wouldn’t be life without books either.”
“I wouldn’t even want to imagine it.” Britta wr
