Running with the Wolves

Sam’s demeanor hadn’t changed much while we were shopping, unfortunately. I held my dress on my lap, my bag full of accessories and the shoe box by my feet. He was mostly silent, not asking us about how it had gone or anything else that would’ve made for polite conversation. I asked him where he’d gone, and he said a restaurant down the street. I asked him what he’d eaten, and he said, “Food.” That was about the extent of our discussion.