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Of Karma and Corridors

Page 37

by Sloane St. James

I mean, your house is old as shit. Kinda makes sense.

Right? Ghostbusters is booked solid for the next eight months. I’m screwed.

Casper

Did you explain the granola bars?

I did. Zero sympathy.

Casper

Damn. Bold of them to play fuck-around-and-find-out with a Yelp review from Anna Kucera.

They’ve left me no choice but to throw my weight around.

Casper

All 70 pounds of you?

Please. Everything looks small when you’re 8’ 14” tall.

Casper

8’ 15” actually.

How’s the weather up there?

Casper

Take it back. Take it back right now.

Never.

Casper

What are you doing?

Working.

Casper

Lame. You should come over here instead.

Why? What are you doing?

Casper

Playing with my possum.

The fuck? I save my spreadsheet and push my laptop away, as if focusing on my phone is going to make his text any more intelligible. Maybe it was a typo.

. . .

Casper

. . .

Eventually three dots start dancing at the bottom of the screen.