Twenty-Seven
Risky BusinessI lay on my makeshift bed and sank into its comfort. A fresh-smelling, spare blanket wrapped around the couch cushions took care of the scratchy, brown material and masked the dusty smell of the old fabric. The book I chose from the end table downstairs rested on the floor beside me. The wind rattled the roof and whipped the rain at the unprotected window as the day's events played in my thoughts. The compact heater vibrated, and while it didn't heat the room it was enough to take the dampness out of the air.
Gus read my thoughts while behind the closed door of the bathroom, not too far away from where he sat in the kitchen. But I needed to test how much further his telepathic skill reached. Call it being merciful, played through my mind as I ruminated on our
