Page 102 of Wayfarers

“You’re good company.”

“No you’re good company.” She smiles.

I smile back. “Keep it. It’s a thrifted copy anyway. For whatever reason, there’s no book more ubiquitous at thrift stores. I don’t get it, because it’s amazing. But fair warning, it’s sad.”

“So sad that you and everyone else feel compelled to get rid of it?”

“No, more like we want to share it.”

“Fair enough.”

“Anyway, thanks for letting me sleep inside last night. I guess it might’ve gotten bad in the tent.”

“Don’t thank me, but I will take a copy of The Kite Runner if you got one. Oh wait.”

“Haha. Aren’t you funny. If we see a thrift store on the way to the House on the Rock, let’s dip in and I’ll prove to you my hypothesis. I predict the presence of three copies there. I can replenish.”

“Three copies? Getting a little cocky with our prognostications, are we?”

“Three.”

“You realize,” Sylvie says, staring me down, “that if there are not precisely three copies at whatever thrift shop we stop at, I will be mocking you mercilessly.”

“I guess I do now.”

“That means two copies? Merciless mocking. Four copies? You guessed it. Merciless mocking.”

“Okay, I meant to say at least three copies.”

“Yeah, but you didn’t, did you.”

I sigh. “I guess no, I didn’t.”

A LITTLE LATER

“That was some astoundingly good chia oatmeal,” I say.

“Okay, that’s definitely the first time that sentence has passed anyone’s lips, alive or dead,” Sylvie says.

“I literally can’t stop thinking about it.”

“That might be the saddest thing I’ve ever heard.”

“Stop selling yourself short. It was like the perfect balance of salty and sweet, creamy and chewy.”

“I think you were just starved after burning so many calories tossing and turning last night.”

I look at Sylvie, mortified. “Oh no. Did I?”

Sylvie’s watching the road. “Dude, what is this guy—hey, guy! Merge! I’m letting you merge. Yeah, okay, don’t give me a crusty look after I let you merge. Sheesh.”

“You didn’t answer my question.”

“You’re so concerned about this.”

“Well, yeah, I am. You were so nice to shelter me from the storm, I hate to think I displayed bad bed etiquette.”

“Bediquette?” she asks.