You try to get up, but two things stop you. One is the pounding headache courtesy of Rose’s mother’s mystery spirits. The other is the thirty pounds of blonde boy torso draped ever so carelessly across your chest. You can hear them in the other room arguing over the ownership of some set of boxers, but you pay it no mind. You grab a fistful of hair, lie back, and try to sleep the pain away, but it’s a fruitless effort.
You can hear footsteps now as they enter, still arguing, but it stops suddenly. The room is still.
“Now where did these two come from?”
“I don’t know, but isn’t that your shade of lipstick?”