Mila

“What’s that you’re eating?”

I looked up from my lunch to see Noah standing over my chair. I’d been lost in thought, and hadn’t noticed his approach.

“Oh, it’s some chicken salad Oliver made for me.”

“Chicken salad?”

Wrinkles furrowed his face as he looked dubiously at my lunch.

“But it has grapes in it. And is that a pecan?”

“It’s a walnut, Noah.”

“I’m sorry. I’m a ...