It's been a week since Cyrus had dinner over at my grandpa's house.
He hasn't been invited again. Grandpa said he won't invite someone who threw me out of his house. But I see him sigh in contemplation every evening when he goes home. And I'm sure it doesn't help that Cyrus just stands outside the library like an abandoned puppy after we leave.
The first few days, Grandpa even pretended to refuse bringing Cyrus lunch, but he caved in every single time. In fact, he makes the lunch himself, so I haven't been cooking.
Cyrus shows his gratitude towards Grandpa, but he also complains about why I didn't bring him lunch. All he got was a glare from me, and he got quiet. Tsk, the audacity.
And it's not like my cooking is that good. It's barely edible, but he still seems to like it.
Grandpa's sympathy for Cyrus was getting on my nerves, so I finally blew up on him, and he admitted it's because Cyrus reminds him of Grandpa Chris.
