“You know that hat doesn’t disguise you any more than glasses disguise Clark Kent,” I say. “Glasses do disguise Clark Kent,” he says. “Nobody ever guesses he’s Superman.” I snort and pick up the menu, which has exactly five items on it, and no prices. “Magic 8-Ball says verrrrry fancy,” I say. “Everything’s delicious,” he says. “You still like seafood?” “Love.” I reach across the table and put my hand out. He takes it. “Me too.” There’s this silence where it’s almost like we confessed our love for each other. I still love him. I loved him over the Oklahoma! summer. I thought he loved me. “How
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