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The chip is a hazard, Griffin.

Finn:

I think it gives the mug character.

Fox:

The chip is going to slice my palm open one of these mornings, and you’ll feel terrible.

Finn:

Use a different mug.

Fox:

I want THIS mug. It’s the biggest one.

Finn:

Then risk the chip.

Fox:

Fine

I set the phone down and try to read the email, but within less than a minute, it buzzes again.

Fox:

“Sean had never wanted a man the way he wanted this one. It was undignified. It was catastrophic. It was, if he were being honest, the most alive he’d ever felt.”

This made me think of you.

I put my head in my hands.

You okay, boss?” Emmett says from his desk.

“I’m fine.”

“You don’t look fine.”

“I am, and if you tell me I’m pulling faces⁠—”

“But you are. Your mouth is doing this”—he demonstrates, twisting his mouth into a slightly manic expression that is nowhere near what my face is doing—“which is very concerning.”

“Emmett, please focus on the vendor spreadsheet.”

“Yes, boss.”

I look at my screen again. I read the same line of the same email for the fifth time before I give up.

Finn:

You cannot quote romance novels at me while I’m working.

Fox:

I can, and I did.