Reid presented me with three chocolate chip toaster waffles on a paper plate. They were drowning in maple syrup, just the way I liked them.
He couldn’t cook. It was a simple fact, and it was expected, but he did know how to operate a toaster, and also a microwave.
I ate my breakfast while he searched for a movie on Netflix, but ultimately, I wound up requesting that he accompany me upstairs for a nap.
He obliged.
I told him to wake me in thirty minutes—he was either the best or the worst alarm clock, depending on how bored he was.
I had slept better the night before than I had in a while. I slept hard, and I slept well, but if my only responsibilities for the day were to rest, recharge, and reconnect with my Mate, a mid-morning nap seemed perfectly reasonable.
I drifted to sleep i
