“What? Does it taste bad?” Ava asks as I suppress a powerful urge to dry-heave. “It tastes fine,” I say, gathering my composure. “I just can’t get past the mental image that I’m drinking people’s shit.” A devilish grin plays across Ava’s face. She grabs the bottle from my hand and shakes it, causing more mysterious chunks to appear. “I mean, look at that! Is that shit?” I ask. Ava nods, because yes, it probably is. “Well, shit,” I say evenly.
💩🚽
