Jeremiah lies there like a dead fish—though breathing—arms spread, toes pointed up, and an open-mouthed-carp look on his face. Good God, what a scene. Yes, Roxane, this is the type of man I want to go out with. He seems like a real winner. Not only can he apparently not follow directions when it comes to basic human survival, but he has the density of a stick being tossed around in the wind. Even though I have zero interest in the man, I still politely bend over with Roxane. “You okay there, champ?” I mutter. He just blinks, sucking in sharp breaths of air. Checks out. He’ll be just fine.
