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Wish You Were Here

“Hey, dude, let’s go for a walk,” Sean said, ignoring the mayhem left in the room after the party.

Jim didn’t seem to listen, cursing under his breath as he went through the phone menus.

“Jimbo.”

“Fuck!”

“What’s up, man?”

Sean grabbed a beer from the minibar on his way to his brother.

“I can’t fucking find it! I deleted the DMs by mistake and now I can’t find the fucking number!”

“You looking for a phone number?”

“What’s the time in LA now?”

Sean frowned, puzzled. “About four AM? Why?”

Jim ignored his question. “So it’s seven AM in New York. One or two more hours. She should be already awake,” he muttered under his breath.

Sean didn’t hear him do his math and asked, “You mean you lost Barbara’s number when we changed phones in Tokyo?”

Jim frowned up at him. “What?”

“Aren’t you looking for her number?”

“Whose number?”

“Barbara’s.”

“Why the fuck would I wanna

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