I just suggested to Sarah that we go to DQ for Pumpkin Pie blizzards. She looked horrified at the idea, and I said, "Oh, that's right--you don't like pumpkin pie."
She denies this.
I say, "Well it has to be you, someone I know in Georgia doesn't like pumpkin pie, and who else could it possibly be besides you?"
She points at Nate's chair and we discuss for a moment the possibility that it was Nate. Then I remember this:
Two years ago on Thanksgiving, I made a pumpkin pie. I didn't know Nate's dad was also bringing a pumpkin pie. And Nate was ridiculously over-excited at the idea that we would have TWO PUMPKIN PIES AT THANKSGIVING.
It was the little things--Nate fucking loved food.