“How does he have a key?” “You better ask him.” More shuffling, then Graham was there. “Hello?” he said in a sunny, high-pitched voice. “How do you have my key?” “Remember that time you asked me to water your plants while you were at that conference?” No, I did not remember that. “Wait. That was like three years ago.” “I think it might have been four.” “And I got that key back from you when I came back.” “Did you?” “Yes, you gave it to me.” “I gave you a key…” I groaned. Fucking Graham.
