“You really chose to bring your life-sized cutout? Out of everything?” “It was a gift from Poetic Fortune Digest. What else was I supposed to pack?” “Gee, I don’t know.” I kick one of his books. “You have stacks of a certain something all over your desk. And your floor. And my floor.” Jasper blinks. Potentially genuinely. “A bookcase,” I say through clenched teeth.
