“They look radioactive.”
“They’ll keep your feet warm.”
And somehow, they did.
At the diner, Joe noticed I started leaving immediately after shifts.
“You dating somebody?” he asked suspiciously.
“No.”
“Then why are you sprinting out of here every night?”
“I’m helping Mrs. Rhode.”
Joe nearly dropped an entire tray of coffee mugs laughing.
“That old battle-axe?”
I explained the arrangement.
By the end, Joe leaned against the counter thoughtfully.
“Well,” he muttered. “That’s weird as hell.”
“Probably.”
“But she likes you.”
I shrugged like it meant nothing.
