Nineteen
It Means “Green” in Latin
The subsequent two weeks fly by in a blur of binders, paperwork, meetings over long lunches and even longer dinners—and no alcohol in sight, contrary to Finan’s tease about the pub. But everything’s been surprisingly … good. Might even be the first time I’ve felt like a real grown-up, though when my brain threatens to overflow from too many things I absolutely must know, Finan or Kelly and the council throw something else at me. Though I’ve long since drained my collection of hidden flasks transported with my belongings, I’m so tired at the end of every day, I fall asleep without need for the lulling warmth of Suntory or Black Label.
And Rupert has been gone dealing with Foundation business in Vancouver—I’m sort of disappointed he’s not here witnessing
