He was on the futon. I slumped next to him. The painkillers had started to kick in by then. Everything—the room, my clothes, the blanket on the chair—settled against my nerve endings like flannel. “Did our bond just go dopey?” Brand asked. “Aspirin,” I said. “Are you telling me that aspirin theoretically exists, or that you took nothing but aspirin?” he asked.
Ah, the snark.
