Chapter 7

That, right there, is a thought that makes me want to stop walking and smash my skull into the corner of one of the filing cabinets. It’s just so fucking stupid and unlikely that I think maybe, just maybe, seeing Jimmy again has done something severely nasty to my mental health.

I’m furious and all but smothering under my own irrational thoughts by the time I step into the lunchroom and glare at him. Deer illuminated by headlights, rabbits frozen in front of wolves, supposedly clever coyotes underneath falling anvils; none of them could come close to equaling the startled expression that Jimmy gives my curt, “Come with me.”

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