Well, shit. Way to give me a heart attack. I mean, I don’t know this girl at all. I do and I don’t, really. I know what the inside of her mouth tastes like, the way her body presses against yours. I know what she sounds like when she moans and yet by most common standards I don’t know her at all.
I certainly don’t
know what she’s capable of. If she’s vengeful, if she’s vituperative. For all I
know she’s planning some sort of verbal attack right here, right now. But all
she seems to be doing is handing us a piece of paper.
“So,” Kelly says, “we’re
not being evacuated yet?”
“It hasn’t gotten
bad enough. It may not get bad enough. We just don’t know yet. Like the letter
says, if you want to leave, you’ll get your money refunded. We just wanted to
let you know that we’re here and we’re happy to work with you whatever your
situation is.”
She’s talking to Kelly,
not even looking at me at all. Well, that’s good. Don’t look at me. Don’t acknowledge
me. Most of all, don’t make me explain anything. Anything.
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