For several minutes the only disagreement concerned syrup and blueberries.

Elliott cut Dylan’s pancake into smaller pieces.

When syrup reached his sleeve, he picked up a paper towel.

“I have it,” he said before I moved.

I watched his hand instead of his phone.

I wanted to see the morning as a morning rather than a collection of clues.

“Are you staying after breakfast?” Dylan asked.

Elliott looked at me.