“What about when you fed me undercooked chicken, and I was out with food poisoning for a week?” I say pointedly. He’s silent for one beat, then two. “But did you die?” I gape at him. “I was so dehydrated from throwing up, I thought I saw God.” “No, you saw me. And I’ve apologized.” His voice drops a level, and I can feel the guilt seeping out of him.
BUT DID YOU DIR
