Seth's POV

A notification pops up on my computer screen. I click on it. My inbox comes into view.

✉

From: aizen_r.faulkner@gmail.com

To: me

19/11/2020 9:40 AM

My Dearest eccentric ace,

Let the morning dewdrops wash away the burdens of yesterday. May God sprinkle much of these on you today!

“Good Lord,” I sigh helplessly. “He’s just completely ruined my morning.” I typed up a reply to the thread. 

✉

From: seth_ed.solomon@gmail.com 

To: aiz_r.faulkner@gmail.com 

19/11/2020 9:43 AM

To your loyal dimwittedness, 

Can you please not cause me to lose my brain cells early in the morning? It would be very much appreciated.

I press send and go on with my day. 

‘Sounds like he took the wrong pills.’ I make a mental note to check in with Claude if ever I pay a visit. My game notifications pop up and I immediately shifted over my focus, grinning to myself like an idiot at the thought of another grinding session with a fresh cup of hot ramen noodles. Maybe sushi if I’m up for it. 

I get up and walk listlessly into the bathroom, paying zero attention to the dark circles around my eyes. A couple of minutes go by before another *ding* sounds from the palmtop device, interrupting my morning tooth brushing session. 

From: aizen_r.faulkner@gmail.com

To: me

19/11/2020 9:47 AM

Addressing the cynic in the room,

Who knew you had brain cells? Lol. Come over for Thanksgiving. Keanu insists. Judy is looking forward to your arrival. *winky face*.

Thanksgiving. I would love to be a narcissistic bastard and say that I have plans and therefore cannot make it, just because I lack the will and energy to attend a turkey dinner 7 hours away from the comfort of my own home. However, I’d like to see where this goes.

✉

From: seth_ed.solomon@gmail.com 

To: aiz_r.faulkner@gmail.com 

19/11/2020 9:50 AM

Holding forth to sir jackass, 

FYI, my brain cells matter more than your turkey feast. Also, the Judy of this universe is not one to anticipate the arrival of any man treading this Earth. And tell Keanu to go play himself. I’m a busy man.

Why the hell is he even asking? I’m sure he’s aware that we’re 3,621 miles apart. My face morphs into an expression meant to depict extreme confusion. 

The rest of the conversation with me and Zen goes as follows:

Zen: Come over, I’ll book you a flight.

Me: No.

Zen: Free food. Free service. Good wifi. 

Yours truly: nO.

Zen: I’ll buy you your game’s latest update…

'Tis I: You better not be kidding. 

Zen: Pack up, asshole.

Yeah, he’s a wicked one. Or is it the other way round? Well, as long as I get to reap the benefits. 

Zen sends me a screenshot of my plane ticket he booked on his phone. That was fast. Let the packing commence.