Sublime

Charlie and I exchange sharp-edged pleasantries and I pay him for a cup of coffee and then settle into my spot in the café, where I refuse to give him the satisfaction of glancing his way no matter how often I feel his eyes on me.

Charlie chooses that moment to stroll into the kitchen, his arms laden with cups and bowls and a giant ceramic dish in the shape of a tractor. He’s grinning down at it like it’s the best thing he’s ever seen. “Where did your mom get this thing? It’s awesome.” He rearranges the dishes in his arms so he can take a closer look, inspecting the tiny cat

“We’ve incorporated a lot of your ideas, Charlie, and we’re excited about what the future holds.” “Why do you sound like an infomercial?” “Please shut up.”