Seraphis lounged on the creaky chair, sipping her tea like it was the last drop of sanity she had left in this world. The sunset bathed her face in warm hues, but her mood? Oh, it was anything but warm. Judge had taken himself off to buy groceries hours ago— or so she thought— and her patience was thinner than a sheet of paper in a shredder.
She tapped her foot, muttering under her breath. "Two hours. Two whole hours. What's he doing? Raising the chickens himself? Starting a vegetable farm? Negotiating peace treaties with the cows?"
Spoiler alert: it had not, in fact, been two hours. It had been about 50 minutes, give or take. But Seraphis, the proud owner of zero common sense when it came to checking clocks, had never cared for those silly circles with numbers. Her relationship with time was as complicated as Judge's with groceries.
