Though he felt tired beyond belief from all the extra labor, Dakota worried about the wellbeing of his friend and potential lover, who hadn’t eaten anything since lunch and looked unquestionably ill.
Cold cuts, bread, lettuce, and fresh tomatoes presented themselves inside the family fridge. A hot meal would be better, but he couldn’t cook to save his life. He assembled two sandwiches and placed them on separate plates along with some ruffled potato chips. These he brought up to his own bedroom along with a re-corked, half-empty bottle of pink wine—tucked under his arm—and a couple of glasses.
Dakota borrowed an extra chair and a fold-out tray from the front living room. He set up a reasonable dinner table, complete with napkins and a large scented candle that he found in the kitchen. Sa
