Our heads snap toward the door, and Drew’s confusion mirrors my own as Sandra whirls inside, weighed down by the drug tray in her arms. Her mouth begins the motion of a smile, but as soon as she notices Drew at the side of my bed, she balks. “What are you doing here, Sandra?” Drew asks, his voice low and menacing. I turn to him, about to ask who shit in his Froot Loops, when I notice his murderous expression. What the actual hell?
Huh 😑
