55
Thirty minutes isn’t a lot of time. Barely enough to greet your friends, grab a bowl of stew, sit down at a table and huddle together for warmth.
Certainly not enough time to sneak off with your parallel universe boyfriend and get in some meaningful private time.
“Now where have you been keeping all that?” Sarah asked me once we’d sat down across from each other. The sun was just going down, so there was still enough light to eat by.
“Keeping all of what?” I asked.
“Those clothes!” she said. “Very smart. Holding something in reserve for the end. All of my clothes look like I’ve been rolling in the dirt for days.”
“And yet you still smell like a florist’s,” Martin said.
“I do have my standards,” she answered.
Their brief moment of banter gave me time to come up with an answer. “I
