For days, guilt weighed down my spirits. I checked the news every day for any crumb of information of the bank or Ken Savage. Nothing, luckily.
In an attempt to get my head out of the sand, I worked diligently on Mr. Litmen’s homework. I climbed the steps of mentalism, yet my magic work sucked. I juggled, let coins vanish and reappear, rolled dice so that they always showed the same total, made strings seamless, and changed the colors of a scarf.
Tired, I heated up leftover gumbo. Derren had made the soup before he and Paula went to their bi-weekly Sunday tradition: watching a play or musical at one of the theaters. This time they saw Wicked.
WickedI made myself comfortable on the leather sofa. Ravenously, I dug into the bowl and was happy I could enjoy all the leftovers by myself. Cori
