I spoon myself closer to MindReader.

“What’s our ‘thing’?” I say to him.

“Our thing?”

“You know, couples have a thing, like going to plays or hosting dinner parties.”

“Not sure,” he says, squeezing my waist.

“That’s my spleen,” I say. “It’s aching.”

“Sorry,” he says. “What was your highlight of today?”

“Not having meningitis,” I say. “Yours?”

“You not having meningitis.” He pauses. “Medical stuff,” he says.

“Yep, that’s our thing.”