“I don’t know any good magic words,” he says. “You pick.” I’m aware of every place his skin touches mine as we keep our pinkies connected. I can’t concentrate, so I do the first thing I think of. “O-O-O-O’Reiiiilly … Autoooo Parts.” “Really?” “It sticks in your head like a spell. You got something better?” “Yeah.” He clears his throat and sings, “Meow meow meow meow,” from the cat food commercial. I nod. “Much better.”
