The timer goes off on the oven and I scramble to pull the pan out, grateful to have something useful to do. I watch as Nigel moves over toward the cupboard I pulled the dishes from last time, grabbing two plates and laying them on the counter. We continue moving around the kitchen like that, me offering gentle direction whenever he doesn’t know where something is located, and soon enough we are sitting down to eat. He sits in the same spot as last time, but scoots his chair incrementally closer to mine. He leans down toward the plate, inhaling, and groans in a way that sends a new round of
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