by JOHN ADAMS
tin roof frozen custard by stu_spivak | Flickr
“Six, eight.” Kaelyn’s glossy fingernail ran from one lit elevator button to the other.
“What?” Lis asked, more from habit than interest.
“Today’s date. June 8th.”
Lis scooped her hair into a scrunchie. “Huh.”
“June 8th,” Kaelyn repeated, drawing out the date. “Like I was saying: International Best Friends Days.”
Lis’ face flashed a second of ‘This shit again?’ before offering another “Huh.”
The man caught between them shot Kaelyn a quick, embarrassed look before shuffling to the front of the elevator.
Escape From Spiderhead
George Saunders / The New Yorker
Behind the Hand - Keoni Cabral- Flickr
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