It doesn’t really matter how it happened, does it?






I hope not, because I really don’t know. I know I was in a car accident. At least, I don’t remember anything about the morning before

the accident – not at all -

but I clearly remember coming to on the corner of Windy Hill and Macland under a pile of my o

Even after a week, it definitely wasn’t our place; it was

her

place. 






And that was fine. I would have felt strange if it had been otherwise; I was a sofa-surfer - a refugee, not a roommate. I hadn’t been invited. I had the run of pretty much everything but her bedroom, which really meant I spent most of the day

We set up

the

cameras to capture

exactly

what we wanted to. 






I had become something of a

n auteur

with the GoPro. For

the rest of the world,

“Welcome. Welcome. Have a seat - yes, right there. Thanks for coming to my show.” 






The host’s

brassy, ebullient

voice came to my ears muffled, but I could still hear her. I could hear Becca’s heart beating just as clearly, faster than usual. She was sweating, too, but that wasn’t surprising; th

“

Foursi

.”






“Yeah?” I twisted in my little shelf,

turning

away from the windshield to face her past the steering wheel.






Becca was wearing