Ned woke up alone in the bed, again. The morning light hit his bed sheets and the dust danced in the beams. The room was warm and it smelled vaguely of coffee.

Sometimes it’s ok to lose everything. He heard the clatter of pans downstairs.

He put on a robe and went down.

Meerka was at the stove, singing loudly and off tune.

She saw him and stopped. She waved a spatula.

-Sit, she said. I had an idea.

-About breakfast?

-About business, she said.

Ned sat. He poured coffee.

-I’m listening.

-A cart is too small, Meerka said. She put a plate of eggs in front of him. Spicy. Perfect.

-A cart is cheap. You said, start small.

-I was scared then, Meerka said. I’m not scared now.

She leaned against the counter, crossing her arms.

-A storefront. Small. Just five tables. Lunch only.

-That costs money, Ned said.

-I have an investor, Meerka said. He is difficult, but he likes my cooking.

-Well, I love your cooking, Ned said, taking a bite of the eggs. He’s just trying to sleep with you anyway.

-I was talking about you, Meerka yelled, slapping Ned on the shoulder.

-I guess you got me, Ned said laughing.

-Good. Now eat. We have a location to scout.

-Now listen, Ned said. I love your cooking, and I love you. I don’t---she interrupted him with a kiss.

-I love you too, she whispered in his ear.

-But I don’t love spending money on landlords and places for people to loiter and hustle, he finished, pulling Meerka into his lap.

-That’s fine. I’ll go find another investor, she said, bopping him on the nose.

-We could open up a whole chain.