“Look at this,” said Owen, pointing at his feet. “Same welcome mat, all these years later.” He chuckled and shook his head, a shooting star of a lopsided grin flickering across his face for a brief moment before vanishing back into darkness.
“Are you seeing what I’m pointing at? Did you even look?”
Liz’s eyeballs popped up above the frames of her obnoxiously big sunglasses as she looked up from her phone. She slid them back up the bridge of her nose.
“What?”
Owen groaned. “Fuck, Liz, can you look away from that fuckin’ thing for one motherfuckin’ second?”
He couldn’t see them, but he knew she was rolling her eyes. “What’re you gonna do, break it like you did my last one? Like you break everything else when you get all pissed off?”
He stared at her.
“Ok. Yeah, I see it. It’s an old…
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Patrick Walts 