Valerie did not stop chewing. "I would eat it," she replied with her mouth full, "if you were the one who bought it."
Demian frowned. "How would you know?"
Valerie swallowed. "I just know."
The answer was too simple. Too certain.
"It could have been Juan who bought the one you're eating now," he said, clinging to the last thread of logic he had.
Valerie looked straight at him. No doubt. No humor.
"You bought it," she said. "I know the difference between when you buy it and when Juan does."
Demian let out a long breath.
He gave up.
He did not know how Valerie knew. He did not know what distinguished one bread from another. But he could not deny what he saw.
Valerie finished the bread until nothing remained.
Completely gone.
That was rare. And Demian noticed.
"Were you hungry?" he asked at last. "Or… did you simply like it?"
Valerie gently wiped the corner of her lips, then smiled a small smile. Unforced and unpretended.
