Her head drooped forward, looking for the pillow that wasn’t there, and she planted her face right in the carton. The soggy siding gave out and Roxie woke as her nose clogged up with melted ice cream. She sat upright and snorted and coughed, then wiped her face and felt something slimy. She looked at her hand. It was coated in cookie dough ice cream. What the heck? She wiped her face again, feeling a layer of cold slime all over her cheeks. She ran her other hand through her hair. Thick locks had been clumped together and her hair stuck to her fingers. She let out a cry of disgust and surged to her feet, the back of her knees knocking the chair out of the way. There was a crash of wood on hollow metal. The chair she’d just been sitting on lay on its back in front of the stove sitting on the other side of the kitchen. Roxie blinked. “Rox, what was that?” said a male voice from the living room. It took her a moment to recognize the muscular man peering over the back of the couch.
