“I can’t finish it,” a yawn punctuates her statement. “Another thing about late night snacks, my eyes are always bigger than my stomach.” “If you’re sure.” I should insist she eat more, but she’s right that the sandwich was fairly large. But lucky for me, I’m large too. “I’m sure, Big Guy.” She smiles as she says it, like we were having the same thought. My grin matches hers as I pick up her castoff. I’m not sure anyone’s ever given me a nickname before. Save for asshole or something of the sort. And I’m finding I like it. A lot.
