Sweet Savor

Savory or sweet, he asked me. I hadn't been paying attention to anything besides my drink, I didn't notice him sit right next to me.

Savory or sweet or... what, I asked him.

Should I make you a savory breakfast tomorrow morning, he smiled, or a sweet one?

Hmm... I looked at him and pondered. Somewhere between six and twelve, I think. And it'll be sweet.

Six or twelve? Well, yeah, he said, that's—

But my glass to his temple stopped him short evidently. I'll never know just how many stitches it was. But I was right. It was sweet.