#Chapter95
Blue Lips
Maggie
Nash, Nixon, and I stood in the local grocery store's bakery section in front of glass cases.
/"A cake?/" I asked.
/"Yep,/" they both said.
/"Why a cake?/" I’m confused with the whole theory of getting a cake for something like blue balls until they explained it to me.
/"Because we must mourn what one has lost, and we love cake./" Nixon raised a finger, emphasizing his point.
They searched through the case until they found one with blue icing.
/"Perfect./" Nash pulled out a cake without writing. A genius can figure out why he picked this cake.
He took the cake to the baker, whispering to him. The baker shrugged, taking the cake to the back.
/"What did you say to him?/" I asked him.
/"You’ll see./" He shot Nixon a knowing expression.
