Page 30 of Micah
“Micah,” Sawyer says slowly, “how the hell do you know she has asthma?”
“I noticed.”
“You noticed?”
“She coughs. Has a rescue inhaler.”
Benji snorts.
“She coughs?”
“She rubbed her chest getting into her Van a few weeks ago.”
“Oh, wow. This is getting worse by the sentence,” Sawyer mutters.
“The cabin filter's overdue.”
“You checked?”
“I looked up the maintenance schedule.”
Benji doubles over laughing.
“I hate both of you.”
“No,” Benji wheezes. “No, you don't. But this—this is rich.”
Sawyer scratches his chin, trying—and failing—not to smile.
“So, let me get this straight.”
“No.”
“You're buying replacement parts?—”
“Maintenance items.”
“For a woman?—”
“She owns the vehicle.”
“You've barely spoken to.”
“I've spoken to her.”
“How many times?”
I think about it.
“Seven times.”
Benji starts laughing harder.
“Seven?” he gasps.
“Spread out over the last few months, yes.”
“That somehow makes it worse!”
