He hesitated for half a second—like he wasn’t used to being told to make himself at home.
Then he nodded again and followed Sarah down the hall.
Dinner started the same way it always had.
Plates passed. Chairs scraped. Mark carving the turkey with more ceremony than necessary.
But I noticed it almost immediately.
The way Eli watched the table.
Not the conversation.
The food.
Tracking it.
Counting it.