When I wake up in the morning, I unlock my bedroom door and set aside the stun-stick I kept at hand all night. I undo multiple locks and take down the bar and peer into the living room, because all is quiet, and I thought Jrrru would be a noisy morning guest. Instead, I find the blanket is neatly folded on the couch atop the pillow, the ropes I used to tie his hands and legs together are now forming a bow, and there’s a sad-looking wildflower perched atop the blanket. Jrrru really does think highly of himself, I decide, even as I pick up the flower and sniff it.
