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Becky sometimes spent Sunday afternoons when she closed early lying on Mickey's couch watching TV. Mickey didn't come home until later, not usually, but Becky had a key. Sometimes, if Becky was particularly moved, she'd make dinner. More likely, she would call in for delivery.
Becky would lie on her stomach and stare at the screen. She would often flick through channels, trying to find some mindless show to watch.
"Are you on my couch again?" Mickey asked.
"Yes," Becky said. Mickey put her things down and took a seat on the love seat. Becky liked Mickey's house because it was the homiest place she had ever been in. She had lit a fire. Mickey's house had a fireplace, and it was a luxury that Becky was strangely jealous of.
"Did you order anything?" Mickey asked. Becky was feeling a l
