Ever: It’s me. I’m fine. Loki is fine. Everything is fine. Nora: I don’t believe you. Say something Ever would say so I know that it’s you and not your sadistic capturer trying to throw me off scent because really he killed you and got rid of your body and wants it to decompose before I send out a search party. Have I mentioned that I got Nora into true-crime podcasts? We sometimes spend weekends binge-listening to them in our pajamas, working on fifteen-hundred-piece jigsaws. Ever: Cakes that look like burgers or poop or soccer fields aren’t cute. They’re disturbing. The dissonance between
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