Chapter 67

“Some,” Dee tries to minimize.

Even traffic defers to silence.

“Say something,” Dee implores.

“I feel like I’ve been tased.”

Potsy gestures for his joint. “Now you’re hurt.”

“Come on, guys! I’ve not even been gone three months, and you’re debating sheers versus tiebacks. That’s not hanging out some. We talk or text every day, yet not a word? That’s called the sin of omission in most quarters.”

“You have always been the one thing we have in common,” they both say, connecting each other’s thoughts.

“Would’ve been nice if you’d realized it when we all lived in the same state.”

“We haven’t changed,” Dee protests.

Translated: I did. I moved on but didn’t anticipate that those who stayed would do the same.

“I’m not some possessive adolescent, but I have to ask—is that why this visit? To make a face-to-face offer?”

“That’s pretty passive/aggressive,” Dee says.

Potsy adds, “Now he’s shitty. We just got moved to the air mattress, Dee.”