“One more?” I asked. He shook his head. He’d had enough. I decided not to let the remaining three ounces go to waste, so I finished it off myself. It was what Kit would have wanted, seeing as how during the hundreds of frozen yogurt dates that had preceded this one over the course of our thirteen years together, Kit had always ended up sharing his final two or three spoonfuls with me. And that was because I tended to attack my frozen yogurt like a honey badger at a competitive eating event, while Kit preferred to take his time, savoring each and every bite. That resulted in my finishing long
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