I pulled out a sandwich, “We do have some choices though. There’s Egg Salad… or Tuna, or PB&J…”
“What if I’m allergic to mayonnaise and peanut butter?” she asked speculatively.
“Well, then I have a turkey sub and a ham sub,” I said, pulling out two more. I heard her breath catch as I continued pulling out sandwiches, “And I made two more that were plain, incase you don’t like tomatoes or something. And there’s a chicken sandwich… and a Peanut butter and honey cause I thought, well, you never know—”
Her hand touched my mouth, stopping my words. Her eyes were closed, “Jesse,” she said shakily, “How many sandwiches did you make?”
“Um,” I glanced in the basket, “A lot. I figured I should be prepared, you know, for all your likes and dislikes.”
She shook her head, “You could have just called me.”
“Well, yeah,” I said slowly, “But I like to overdo things, if you haven’t noticed. Besides, I wasn’t really sure what I wanted,” I added jokingly. She was silent.
I watched her worriedly, “Is that… ok?”