Chapter 72
I sat down on the cot, the kind that made your spine question every life decision that had led to this point. Finn was beside me, arms crossed, eyes fixed on the floor like he was trying to set it on fire through sheer boredom.
Across the cell, Sim leaned casually in the corner, sipping from a coconut like we were vacationing on some absurdly humid beach instead of rotting in a bureaucratic jungle prison with mildew in the walls and existential dread in the air.
The cell smelled like old parchment and dried ink. Piles of moldy paperwork were scattered all across the floor, official-looking forms stamped with the most absurd things like Form 14-B: Intent to Trespass While Looking Confused.
Apparently, these people had paperwork for everything, and I was starting to wonder if I would have to sign an acquisition form for being detained in the cell.
