Dad must have left early — since he wasn’t up to see me in last night when Mable dropped me off, and isn’t home now. I take a cup of coffee and a toasted Eggo waffle with nothing on it upstairs and nibble my way around the crispy edges. This is how I’d eat everything, given the chance (and if manners and social graces were not a part of my world at all). In the comfort of my room or with Mable or a friend, I’ll eat the sides of a Kit-Kat bar then gnaw my way through the wafer layers. Or I’ll eat the middle of a brownie and save the edges for last (note to self: must find life mate who prefers middles, since I like all things crispy and crunchy). I log on and go right to JC Hall’s blog. This time, the entry looks different. Where it usually opens with a movie quote, there’s a blank banner. No date, no time. No paragraphs of thoughts. Just these words: Meet me there. Am I a dumb shit for thinking these are instructions for me to follow? Does he know about my blog-snooping?
