“Why?” He asks curiously, “You’re the one sitting at my dining room table when I come home from the market, and yet it’s weird that I’m asking questions?”

He brings his fingers to his forehead, rubbing gently at his brow. It’s a tell, that his head is bothering him, sometimes actual headaches, sometimes it’s just iOS memory and the struggle for it.

His voice doesn’t sound frustrated though, or angry. More just like he’s trying to make sense of the situation.

“Is it so bad that I want to understand where you’re coming from?” He doesn’t know what to make of her answer, if her relationship was any specific type.