Chapter 20

“I’m losing my mind,” he said aloud, much to the annoyance of a librarian who walked by and cast a doleful eye in his direction.

There were any number of different recipes for gazpacho: white, Ajo Blanco, something called “Oriental Gazpacho,” and even green gazpacho, but the one that called out to him, the one he imagined Dock making was the simplest of them all. It had a handful of ingredients, mostly vegetables and some spices. Leo wondered if Dock would use a mortar and pestle to grind the herbs. He liked thinking of Dock standing shirtless, pestle in hand, salty sweat rolling down his chest, the smell of birch trees in the air.