"You brought marshmallows to an arson."
"It's not arson if you own the moral high ground."
"Get in, dick face. We're going kidnapping."
I stare at him, my brain catching up with what I’m looking at.
"What the fuck are you wearing?"
He looks down at the shirt. Bright orange. Palm trees. Flamingos.
"What? It's my undercover look."
"Undercover as what? A divorced dad at a pool party?"
— Jul 20, 2026 01:24PM
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