I plopped onto the couch, the cushions sinking under me, the living room dim with just the flicker of a streetlight sneaking through the blinds. Kim closed the door behind us, her red crop top crumpled from the day, her bag slung over her shoulder. The clock on the wall read nine, the hours at the amusement park—screaming on roller coasters, losing at rigged ring toss—leaving us wiped.
Kim looked lighter, though, her smile softer, despite Cora's creepy vibe lingering like a bad aftertaste. I still couldn't bring myself to ask if she was behind Karim's shit—those carvings on his back, the kidnapping. The truth scared the hell out of me.
Kim sank onto the couch beside me, leaning back, her elbow on the armrest, her face propped on her palm, her hair spilling over her fingers.
"That was… good," she said, her voice quiet.
"It was," I said, nodding. "We should do it again sometime."
