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“Did you sleep well?” John knew it was mean, but he hoped she’d slept like shit. “Slept like there was a carbon monoxide leak in my room,”
Now she looked genuinely confused. “Culture Club?” “That shirt you wear. Culture Club.” “‘Do you really want to hurt me?’”
“Excuse me,” Phoebe cut in. “Do you mind if I borrow your son for a minute?” “You’re not going to do any weird mind experiments on him are you?” His father, rocking a sleeveless turtleneck and bellbottoms, laid a protective hand on Billy’s shoulder. “No, of course not. But I am going to ask him to pretend to be someone else’s kid for a little while.” She winced, waiting for the no that any parent in their right mind would give. “Oh, that’s fine. He does that on his own sometimes,” the mother announced.
The kid nodded solemnly and then let out an ear-piercing scream. “Oh, my God! Are you okay? Did you get stung by a bee?” He shook his head. “Sometimes the screams just hafta come out,” he announced.
“I can’t catch my breath,” she whispered. “You can have mine,” he promised.

