She worried that she wouldn’t have money to eat (“Pad thai is eight ninety-five plus tip, Karl!”), and I’d remind her that the wormhole had already brought in mad bank, and that I would buy us an Airstream trailer to live in. (“I may love you, Karl, but I’ve smelled your farts, and I doubt an Airstream trailer has sufficient ventilation to allow our relationship to blossom in such tight quarters.”)
