“Oh, what a precious family,” an older woman gushes as we sit on a bench beside the carousel while Hallie munches on her blue cotton candy and tries to feed it to Sweet Pea. Fletcher’s ears go pink while I smile at her. “Thank you. We’re having a few last minutes together before he has to report to prison for grand theft auto.” “Or to my own grave,” he mutters while she stutters something incoherent and rapidly changes course to go the other direction in the park.
Funny shit
