Spencer
"You got quite the swing," I say, making Blythe a peanut butter and jam sandwich. It had taken a bit of coaxing but eventually she let me make her something to eat.
"I'm sorry. I wasn't thinking properly. I didn't mean to strike you."
"After what happened last night I don't blame you for being on the defense," I cut the sandwich horizontally and bring it to her. She meets my eyes for a second but there's a lack of familiarity or fondness. I sit down beside her. She picks up a triangle and takes the first bite. "I didn't take it personally."
"Mmm," she hums, closing her eyes as she chews. "It's the good peanut butter. The one with the tiny sugar crystals in it. Mom used to buy it when I was younger. It's been years."
I let her enjoy it in silence. She's all nostalgic again but
