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Summary
“It’s a dark, stormy night, so I kinda thought my past would show up to bite me,” Wade said, slouching against the counter and taking a long drag of his joint.
The ‘past’ in question rolled her eyes as she sat down at the counter beside him. “It’s mid-afternoon and cloudy outside, Wilson. Jesus.”
“She’s right,” Dopinder said, from where he was polishing the countertop industriously. Under Dopinder’s care, Sister Margaret’s had become depressingly clean. Wade could even see the knobbly outline of his reflection in the countertop. “It’s getting warm too. It’d probably be sunny tomorrow.”