“I know a great thrift store,” I say, trying to come up with a way of helping him other than giving him all my stuff or falling to my knees and begging him to move in with me. “The place where I bought your books. They have all sorts of stuff, and I bet you can find most of what you need there.”
He perks up. “Yeah?”
“As long as you don’t need fancy matching china, you’ll be all right. I can take you this weekend, if you like.”
“I’d like that,” he says and flashes me a smile.
* * * *
We go on Saturday, after lunch, and he’s got a long list of things he needs, but when we get there, his heart isn’t in it. He wanders the store aimlessly, looking at things but not really seeing them.
I nudge his shoulder. “Maybe you’ll have better luck if you check your list?”