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Chapter 8 by BiBiComte BiBiComte

Where's Josh off to now?

To meet a friend.

Knock-knock.

The door opened.

"Yes?" it spoke, blearily.

"Hey Amy." He cleared his throat, then looked around. "Hope this isn't too bad a time."

With a tug, the door creaked an inch further from its doorway. "...Josh?"


The food court wasn't his first choice, but the cheese-steaks they had here were alright, and Amy liked them too, so they decided to plop in.

"So," Josh wiped his hands as he swallowed down a chunk of his grinder, "I just hit you up to ask some things. Well, and catch up, really."

Amy plugged a big fry into her ketchup packet, shrugging. "Shoot."

Josh leaned forward, forearms on the table. "Have you noticed anything off, lately?"

"Off?" the woman frowned, picking out a fry and then grimacing at the burnt point.

"You know." Josh eyed a couple traipsing down the aisle. "Different. About, like, people. Your friends, whatever."

Through her chews, Amy shrugged. "Maybe. I don't know. Why," her eyes playfully gleamed, "is it Body Snatchers?"

After a curt apology for the attempt at levity, Amy discarded some wrap into a nearby bin and grabbed her fizzing orange juice. Last time they convened, the 6 of them had went out clubbing, only to be **** to an early abort when one of the younger guys' drinks was spiked by some slimeball. Could've taken legal action, too, but the boy was one of Josh's friends and technically underage, so that was out of the picture. The ride back was wild, and intoxicated, and probably more than a little obscured; Leah nearly got ran over, vomit ended up all over Jamie's phone. It was an amicable set of goodbyes. And, quite justifiably, an awkward one.

So consider it a pleasant surprise when Josh appeared at her doorstep after a tenure of radio silence. She didn't think he was trying to ghost her, or anything -- they weren't as close as they used to be, and reasonably reined in by the periodic, tyrannical work schedule -- but you could never be too sure with men.

"Why don't you try being a little more specific, Josh," she sipped, then popped off her lips with a crisp swallow. "I can help you if you let me."

"Yeah, right," slipped a murmur, something ineligible seeming to bounce off his eye.

With a huff, Amy countered, "You're the one who took me out."

"Oh, I didn't mean it like that." Josh sat back, and looked away. "It's just me, I guess." He appeared to think for a moment, looking around inconspicuously, then returned, arms and all, to the slightly sticky table.

"Alright; so how about this, for one."

What to posit?

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