I pause as I find myself passing Jordan's office. It's been some time now since I last spoke with her. Hell I think other than passing off the kids, we haven't said much to one another since the New Years Eve party. And I think she ditched that party... I sigh and stare at the door a moment longer. She can't be still living out of her office,
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I raise my brows. And point. "Knife-wrench. Hover-hoover, needs some work. Model." Frown-glare. "Don't touch that."
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Does this man ever work? No, wait, scratch that. I knew this. The model's not a bad job really. Though it's obviously constructed from scavenged supplies around the actual hospital. I spot a tiny gathering of people out front. Barbie looks rightly like a scarecrow. I suppose that has to be Carla with the sprig of steel wool as her hair. She'll be thrilled to see that. And myself, I'm guessing, with the more springy curls. Is that yarn or strands from a mop ( ... )
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