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“I always get pad Thai,” I confessed, switching to my phone so I could call in our order. “I guess that’s my happy food.”

He smiled, but it wasn’t his usual bright grin. This one was soft and almost seemed affectionate.

“Talay Thai,” the familiar voice of the owner answered.

“Hi, I’d like to place an order for pickup.”

“Sure, what can we get ready for you?”

“I’d like an order of the pad Thai, but could that be made mild and with no eggplant because of an allergy?”

“One pad Thai mild, no eggplant,” the owner confirmed. “Anything else?”

“Also, an order of the green curry with beef.”

“Really? I mean, of course. Anything else?”

“That’s it, thanks.”

“That’ll be about twenty minutes. See you then.”

“You didn’t need to give them your name or number or anything?” River asked as I ended the call.

“They know me there. It’s a bit sad, but the owner got all excited when I ordered a second meal. It’s usually just for one.” Why did I tell him that? Way to make myself sound like a total loser.

“You’ve got a place that knows you by your order? That’s awesome. I wish I had a place like that.” He paused. “Well, I kinda do. But that doesn’t count.”

“Doesn’t count?”

“Sorry.” He chuckled. “Forgot to say the whole thing out loud. The bar we go to after work knows us, but remembering what beer a group likes is way different from someone knowing it’s you just by your order. How long before it’s ready?”

“Twenty minutes.”

“Do you want to grab some beers or something on the way?”

“Um, yeah. Okay.”

“Oh, do you not drink? I should have asked and not just assumed.”

“No,” I said quickly. “I do, socially. I’m just…being weird.”

“Well, I’m always weird. You’re in good company.” He motioned toward the door. “Ready to go, or do you need to do anything first?”

“I’m good to go.” I took one more look at the bookshelf, feeling stupid at the surge of pride that rushed through me at seeing the finished project after so many years of wishing I could get it done. It wasn’t like I’d actually built it or anything; I’d been a glorified gopher.

“It looks really good. Imagine when it’s got all your books in it?” He followed me down the stairs to the main floor. “Do you have enough books to fill it?”

“Not yet. But that’s the dream.”

“I wished I liked reading.”

“What do you mean?” I grabbed my keys from the kitchen counter.

“I can’t concentrate enough to read. I get distracted and start thinking about random stuff, and the next thing I know, I’ve read a dozen pages and have no idea what happened. Movies are better, but I still have trouble focusing for that long. I don’t think I’ve ever finished a TV show either. I always either lose interest before the final season, or I purposely don’t watch it because I don’t want to know how it ends and would rather make up my own finale.” He snorted derisively as I locked the door. “I’m like an iPad kid without the iPad.”

“iPad kid?” I’d heard the saying before but didn’t want to assume I knew what he meant by it.

“Yeah, you know how they keep saying that Gen Alpha are iPad kids, like they’ve spent so much time on devices they can’t focus on anything for more than a few minutes? That’s me, only no iPad, just a messed-up brain.”




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