“There’s no way we can eat that much,” Max hissed.“Would you find me hoboish if I take some carry-out home after?” I asked.“No, what? Hobo...sh? I don’t want you showing off.” She poked me in the chest. Her gloves had been big and thick. Her hands looked small and dainty.“I’m really bad at showing off. I love this food,” I said. “And I need to resupply my fridge for a few days.”“Oh, OK,” she said. She sipped her pop. I looked at her and worried.“You’ve told me all of these great stories about. "Sir!!!" Hang on."OK...I know I was being a dick at this point but I didn't care. All told $70 worth of pastels and over $100 worth of paper fucked away. Never mind the walls having to be cleaned and the carpet being all multicolored now."Sir!!!!!!" Her voice was definitely reaching the panic point.I walked back into the living room and looked at her with one eyebrow raised. I had all the broken pieces in my hands and she tried to smile and look cute. It wasn't working. "What did you want to. More

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