My can of soda shoots out of my hand, flying high in the air and landing on the carpet beside me. Liquid immediately spills out, seeping along the fibers and into my hair. That’s when everything else hits me. Donuts. An entire box of them. Covered in frosting and sprinkles and sugar glaze. Filled with jelly and custard. All of them on me. “Fuck!” A voice I don’t recognize. I blink up at the ceiling. What the hell, Mondays?! “Holy fuck of fuckers.” “Agreed,” I grumble. “Are you okay?” I blink and then scowl. “Shit. Right. Of course you’re not okay. You’re covered in donuts and Diet Coke. Silver
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