He answers in half a ring. “Buy you a donut?” I ask. We meet in the multipurpose lounge, and I grab him a package of his favorite chocolate minidonuts from the vending machine, tossing them to him on his love seat. He catches them, giving me a look as I buy a pack for myself. “Thanks.” “Welcome,” I say, sitting opposite from him, his eyes like daggers. “Bitch,” he shoots back. “Asshole.” We grin at each other, our fight officially over.
