For Logan
Have you eaten? I have. I’ve eaten your order.
They dropped it off while I was drooling over Hugh Grant in Maurice. All that longing made me hungry. Never mind the pizza I already had. Surprise food never hurt anybody. Don’t get me wrong; I waited—10 whole minutes. Does it take that long to realize a mistake? I’m not leaving a good meal out in the cold. 2 bags of fries, a falafel pita, and a big burrito. Order for Logan? No, order for me.
But they came back. They always come back. Another knock-knock, but I’m not answering. I’m a woman. I’m alone. It’s been 20 minutes. Is that you, Logan? Is Hugh Jackman clawing at my door? Don’t take this back. You deserve fresh food. Make them remake it. Hell, I’ll make you something. We can call it a date since we’re stuck inside anyway (or should be). So touch starved and out of order during the panini. Me: eating the food from your mouth. You: open and waiting. Let’s be full together.
