Maybe we were.

“Uh, yeah, sure. Did you win the lottery or something?” I ask.

“No, but the inventor of the cellophane toothpick twirlie thingies croaked and left a particularly nice waitress a particularly nice sum of money because of the excellent service. Who knew?!” I nod and follow Rachel in, looking around, amazed.

“This is better than the Shakesperean Theatre,” Shade whispers to me. I smile and nod in agreement as she leads us up to our room. I begin to laugh uncontrollably about halfway up, making Rachel laugh, and making Shade look at us like we were a couple of nutjobs. Maybe we were.

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