That’s when I remember what 70X7 means. — I lift my head. The room is swimming. My mouth tastes like I ate a pinecone. Finn is laid out in the chair across from me, fully clothed, snoring. A killer wouldn’t act like this, would he? My brain is telling me it’s urgent to get up. I have the distinct feeling I have remembered something important, but I don’t remember what that was. I don’t remember if it was about Finn. I try so hard to keep my eyes open. I’ll close them for a second. The next time I wake up, Finn is gone. So is the Betty Crocker cookbook.
I'm learning that I hate mysteries. Fucking give it up already and tell me wtf is going on.
