“No, it wouldn’t perish,” he finally concluded. “Because I’d eat it a damn sight faster, way before it could even think of doing such a thing.”
I blurted out a laugh before I could stop myself. “Is that what bread would think?” I asked. “If it had a brain?”
A playful grin spread across his face as he shrugged. “What else would they think about aside from ways not to get eaten?”
“Like the gingerbread man?” I countered teasingly with a roll of my eyes.
His eyebrows crinkled. “Who?”
So I spent the entire time it took to mix the ingredients into dough telling him the story of the gingerbread man. That was nice too—being able to share stories and experiences I’d learned on Earth. I’d never been able to talk to anyone about any of that before. And Indigo was always eager to hear everything
