He loved her. That was the only way he knew how to put it.
He loved the way she would sneak into his loft every morning and lay in bed with him until he woke up, just so she would be the first thing he saw every morning.
He loved the way she would cook him his favorite breakfast every morning - not because she was trying to prove to him that she loved him, but because she loved seeing his face light up with delight when he saw the plate of blueberry pancakes with lightly buttered toast on the side waiting for him at the small coffee table in front of the house.
He loved the fact that she would spend her tips from work buying that food for him.
He loved the way that if he needed to talk, she didn't question him. She just let him talk and vent until he felt better.
He loved the way that, on most nights, she would wait for him to get home from his long hours of work at his new job just so she could give him a small hug and kiss goodnight.
He loved all of the other cute, random things she would do just to make his day the slightest bit better in any way.
And so, Roger found himself thinking, who needed drugs when you could have Mimi?