“This is a wonderful table,” you say and admire the dark grain.
“Oh really?” Henrik says almost bashfully. “I made it. And the chairs too. The couch…” he points across to the living room, “it’s in progress. I’m learning how to upholster. I found this amazing sofa someone was throwing in the trash, so I tossed it in the back of my truck and decided to use the fabric. Upcycle, you know? Help the environment.”
You finally take a swig of tea because you cannot think of something to say. You half hope the tea is poisoned so you can die in the presence of the perfect man. But the tea doesn’t kill you. And, really? Are you kidding me? He makes the execution Lipton tea bags seem like an art form.
Umm...yeah...let's just move on and pretend this never happened.
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This shit is stupid. I come here for Rangers news, not stupid fan fics made by people who need help and have no lives.
can someone please just encase me in carbonite and reanimate me when the season is about to begin? there are some things better left unsaid,