“Aren’t you supposed to be getting ready?” Cali asks as she walks into my bedroom where I’m lying on my bed petting Pascal. He’s purring up a storm while also shedding all over my pillow. The flick of his tail tells me he’s quite pleased to do this. “I don’t wanna go,” I declare. “Oh my god, you sound like a child,” she says with a grin. “Shh, don’t judge me, mere child.” “Like isn’t it just some super ultra-fancy get-together for rich people where they can sniff out the mundane?” she asks.
