Settle in, and we’ll see whose turn it is to tell a story.” “It’s mine!” Chauncey yelled, eyes poking up through a pile of blankets he was hidden under. “I didn’t get to do it last time because Lucy took too long reenacting his favorite exorcisms.” Arthur shook his head. “By my count, it’s actually Phee’s turn. Chauncey, last time, you told the devastatingly beautiful story of how you fell in love, only to realize your affections weren’t returned because the object of said affections was a rock.”
