46 Blueberry Hill, Tuesday Evening
Sean's first reaction on discovering that it was 2008 and not 2019 was "Aw, fuck." His second reaction was to rent a car -- a cheap piece of shit, to be sure, just enough to haul his crap around -- and head off in search of a place to stay. That hadn't taken him long and the next thing he knew, he was parked in the driveway of #46 Blueberry Hill, carrying boxes into the house.
It was a nice little place in a nice little neighborhood in a nice little town.
It was something Savannah would've liked.
Smiling sadly, he balanced a box on one hip as he fumbled with the keys. He shoved the door open, set the box down on the floor inside the door, and went back for another.
[Open to absolutely anybody and everybody! Come confuse the poor man.]
It was a nice little place in a nice little neighborhood in a nice little town.
It was something Savannah would've liked.
Smiling sadly, he balanced a box on one hip as he fumbled with the keys. He shoved the door open, set the box down on the floor inside the door, and went back for another.
[Open to absolutely anybody and everybody! Come confuse the poor man.]