We talked a little during homework. Dad wanted to know if we were interested in a board game. We'd played a lot of board games, growing up. It had bee... good family time. That had faded a bit when we hit our early teens, and we were less willing to cooperate with parents in general. That said, I didn't think it was odd he'd suggest that again, after all these years. It just seemed like something we hadn't done in a while and it seemed fitting to try it again. As I look back on it now, I suspect. Martinus helps me out, steadying me when I wobble on bare feet. I ache all over, both from D. Webster’s abuse and the crash. I’ve lost the flip-flops somewhere, but I don’t have any interest in retrieving them. I wonder if I should be sad about D. Webster. He ruined my health, and probably my life.He’s somehow dry, though the storm rages around us. I’m soaked to the skin in seconds. Taking a drag from his cigarette, he exhales and passes it to me. I take it, staring at the glowing tip like I’ve. More

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