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    Summary

    It’s a little funny, too—in an absolute asinine kind of way—that Zosia may not remember all that knowledge she gained from living in perfect symbiosis with the rest of the fucking world but she can remember the night Helen was sick and left Carol to fend for herself at one of those stupid publishing parties she was always getting invited to. Yeah, she probably shouldn’t have gone for the second Old Fashioned, and she definitely should not have ripped her car keys out of the valet’s hand and flipped him off while doing it, but it tickles her to think Zosia can remember the square root of that night and not four thousand, one hundred thirty. 

    She risks a small smile. “Oh, that’s sort of—”

    “And I hate that.”

     

    or, in between saving the world and getting the girl, Carol tries to make sure the girl does not kill her first

    Language:
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