Work, an errand, and having to catch a cab to get home, Mike didn’t walk in the door until nearly seven. This whole deal where he was banned from driving yet again while the neurologist determined if the meds were back to controlling his seizures again…made him want to run screaming down the beach.
Kurt must have decided to cook because the house smelled very good. Mike ambled into the kitchen. Kurt was stirring something on the stove while watching some video on laptop that sat on the counter beside.
“Hey,” Mike said. “It smells good.”
“French onion soup. It’s fifty-five degrees outside. Positively bitter.” Kurt gave him a teasing grin.
“Prague in February sounds like so much fun. You do know it’s going to be roughly freezing over there next week. “
“Unfortunately.”
“Taking your lon
