Page 94 of Shhh…It’s A Killer Story

"You're smiling."

Gerald.

I didn't bother turning around.

"I usually do."

"Not like that."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"You've smiled three times in six minutes." Frank sighed dramatically from somewhere near the bookshelf.

"Four."

"I wasn't counting."

"I was."

"I wish you had hobbies."

"I do."

"You don't."

"I judge yours."

Fair enough. I wandered into the kitchen and reached for the honey. Empty. I stared into the jar as if disappointment alone might refill it. It didn't. Typical.

"You've got that look again," Gerald observed.

"What look?"

"The one where your body is making breakfast...but your brain is somewhere six-foot-three with grey eyes."

I nearly dropped the spoon.

"I don't know anyone six-foot-three."

Frank cleared his throat.

"Elias."

"I know someone six-foot-two."

Gerald sighed the exhausted sigh of a tiny ceramic man forced to live with an idiot.

"The denial phase is fascinating."

"I am not denying anything."

"You've stolen his jersey."

"It was cold."

"You've smelled it more than a few times."

"I absolutely have not."