She pulled back, eyed the comments, and kept talking. “It was for a friend of ours. His birthday was this weekend, and we thought we’d celebrate by baking a cake in his honor.” It was my birthday this weekend. She’d baked a cake for me? I sat up, now invested in this. What was his name? My comment sparked a flood of mimics. Eisley looked uncomfortable but finally answered. “I’d like to respect his privacy.” Say his name. I typed, and everyone did the same, which prompted her to put her hand on her hip and glare at the camera.
