“In retrospect, I probably shouldn’t have set it on fire.”
Leo stopped, finger hovering over the arrow button on the remote control, and slid a wary, wide-eyed look toward Sadie. Her face was mostly turned away, facing the television that had caught on an infomercial for a new wonder knife that was slicing paperclips like clay. They’d been flipping channels for a while now, not really focusing on anything, but enjoying the noise around them, and commenting idly on the melodrama of a television moment caught out of context. He tried to remember exactly how long it had been, and exactly when he had gotten lost in the lambent lights and lost track of what she was saying.
He had a bad habit of drifting off on lazy, pleasant afternoons, letting his mind slide where it wanted. He was used to people slipping ridiculous statements into the conversation to catch him. But he was pretty sure this was the first time she’d caught him. Glancing down at her, resting her shoulder against his side, he expected to see her flick a look up toward him, smiling at the delicious imaginary clang of her trap snapping shut.
Sadie stayed facing the television. She pointed toward the screen. “Why would you want to do that?” she asked.
“What?” Leo asked uneasily.
apprentice, never master 