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“We’re so sorry. Your dishes should be out within twenty minutes. There was a hiccup with our presiding chef.” “Is everything okay?” I ask, exchanging a worried glance with Kit. “Yes. He’s quite alright. His finger has been successfully located, and he’s on his way to the hospital as we speak,”
I’m welcomed by the sight of a Barnes & Noble, outlined in a golden aureole, luster glinting off the dark green awning. It’s humongous, with wide-paneled windows and two grandiose entrances at the front, garnished with brick supports that stretch all the way to the sky. “Oh my God,” I breathe, shock and giddiness duking it out in the curve of my ribs, right where my heart is struggling to pump. “I’m going to buy you whatever you want,”
I didn’t really think about how I’d sneak back into the house, and my patience is so fucking thin that there’s no way in hell I’m going to make an effort. I walk through the door, trailing droplets of carnage behind me, ignoring the wide-eyed stares from my teammates currently huddled in the front room. “Whoa, dude. What the fuck happened to you?”