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A Bad Idea 31

Shade walked up the steps of the dormitory, whip-filled briefcase in hand. Anne couldn’t help but smile a little at the sight. It didn’t look that weird. Shade, with her ripped-up jeans and ‘don’t-give-a-fuck’ attitude, didn’t necessarily look like the sort of person who would carry a briefcase everyday. But it was plausible that she might need to carry a briefcase at some point in her life.

When Anne opened the door to her room, Shade said, “Curtain doesn’t match the carpet.”

“What?” Anne said. She looked down at her crotch, then back at the curtains.

Shade laughed at that, then pointed at the thick curtains, which didn’t match the white carpet

“Oh,” Anne said. “That was–”

“Yeah,” Shade said. She set the briefcase down on Anne’s couch, then opened it up.

Anne was thankful for the interruption. She didn’t really want to explain that she’d replaced the curtains in her room with something fireproof, plasma-proof, and all-around ‘Anne does way too much stuff that could destroy normal curtains and she didn’t want to catch the ire of the Housing Department because everyone over there is a big bag of dicks (not actual dicks they are all just terrible people)’-proof.

“Do you have a buyer for it?”

“Yeah,” Shade said. “You know One-Eye Jack?”

“No,” Anne said. “And I really don’t think I want to.”

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