“What happened?”
“You refused to speak to me for two hours.”
“Only two?”
“You became hungry.”
“That sounds like a weak protest.”
“You made me repaint one cabinet yellow on the inside.”
I pointed toward the kitchen.
He drove his chair closer and opened the cabinet beneath the sink.
The interior was mustard yellow.
Noah laughed until he had to hold his ribs.
“You’re terrible.”
“You loved me.”
“That does not excuse it.”
“No.”
His laughter softened into a yawn.
I pretended not to notice.
He returned to the couch and settled beside me.
Closer than before.
Marlowe climbed up at the opposite end, filling the remaining space.
Noah rested his head on my shoulder.
“You call me Noah now.”
“Yes.”
“What did you call me before?”
“Many things.”
“Such as?”
“Sweetheart.”
“That one escaped in the hospital.”
“I know.”
“What else?”
“Trouble.”
