TRADING MY CHEATING HUSBAND FOR THE LYCAN KING
The two old people hold the stare exactly one beat longer than is survivable, then turn away from her in the same instant, as one, and decide she no longer exists.
I press my knuckles to my mouth and look very hard at a jar of dried beetles. I’d rather pee my pants than laugh right now.
“As I was saying,” Penelope continues, smooth as if nothing happened, “you’ll address one of us and mean the other, constantly, and we won’t correct you, and he—” she tips her head at her husband without looking at him “—will find your confusion the funniest thing that’s happened to him all week. He’s easily amused.”