Then he grabbed my Rubbermaid, shoved his chair back and dumped everything in it into the trash. “Rip!” I hissed, laughing. “What are you doing? That’s perfectly good food!” Already pushing his chair back in closer to the table, he shot me a look as he set the now empty container down and picked up his own. “There’s nothing perfectly good about any of that, Luna,” he grumbled, shaking his head as he scraped half of his meal into my bowl. He scooted it back toward me with a lift of his chin. “Eat that.”
That was funny but sweet
