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“The point is you need to let people in,” she says. “I let people in on a regular basis.” “No, you don’t,” she argues. “I absolutely do. I just expect them to leave once they pull out.”
He wordlessly hands me a paper bag, and I peer inside. Blueberries, strawberries, raspberries. A few bananas and kiwis. A mango and a slice of watermelon. There’s more. It’s a very healthy bag. “You get that I’m hungover, not dying of scurvy?”
Steph purses his lips and studies me like I’m a fascinating science experiment gone wrong.
