After dinner, James put dishes in the dishwasher and asked Kenji to put some music on. “What do you like?”
“I like a little of everything, except rap.”
“Yeah, I don’t like rap.”
Kenji walked to James’ CD player and looked over the CD collection in a neat rack, unlike Kenji’s pile of them. “Hey, you like Billy Gilman, and the old boy bands from the sixties? Awesome. I like them. Oh, and Frank Sinatra and Barbara Streisand? Oh, marry me now. And the Dixie Girls.”
James turned lights out and lit candles. “They’re vanilla. I know, plain vanilla, but I’ve never had scented candles. I’ve never had candles.”
“They’re great if the electricity goes out but also just for ambiance.”
They sat on the couch, moving closer. Kenji rested on his side with his head on James’ lap.
“I like this.” James
