![]() He opened his mouth to answer, but I held out my hand, stopping him before he started. But why are we having dinner together?” I said. Really, the man was a master of simplicity. “We’re having dinner together,” Isaac responded. Being a scary lurker looking for reasons to harass me was one thing, but paying attention to minute details about my eating habits and then remembering them a dozen years later? That was just creepy. You were always so excited about lasagna day at the cafeteria, you asked for extra feta at that falafel stand by the park, you ordered mint chocolate chip ice cream in a cone but you never ate the cone, and-” “What do you mean, how do I know? We grew up together. “How do you know what food I like, Isaac?” ![]() He’d said that about the lasagna too, hadn’t he? And the feta. “I love mint chocolate chip ice cream, though,” I added. “Drinking decaf coffee is like watching censored porn.” I didn’t know whether you liked regular or decaf so I got one of each.” ![]() “There’s mint chocolate chip in the freezer and cones on the counter.” He tilted his chin toward the counter, where I saw a grocery bag and a few cups from the coffee shop across the street. ![]()
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