GREAT READS → I OF THE STORM Issue 595 · January 27, 2016

I of the Storm: Chapter 11

The thought of six days without my fireball was so tantalizingly sweet that it was embarrassing

I of the Storm: Chapter 11

 

“Why you smilin’ so much?” Angela grunted. She waddled into the office, clutching a bag of Doritos. “You didn’t even have your cuppa yet.”

Nothing got past this woman. She pried open the chips — only Angela could enjoy barbecue-flavored MSG for breakfast — and cocked her head at me, squinting.

“I know. December came, and you gotch ya’self a 20 percent raise in your annual performance eval.”

“Even better.”

She put down her chips — the intrigue was too much — and looked at me expectantly.

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