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“I just don’t think it’s that good,” said Denise. “It doesn’t do anything

or me.”

Becky bit back a smile, even though Denise couldn’t see it over the

phone. They’d had this conversation every other week or two months

now . It stil l made or a good dist raction, though, and helped ll up the

time until Ben got home.

It always worried her a bit when Ben was away. Ben was in cha rge o

high-

security projects. Mostly weapons. Oten in high-

risk areas.

Granted, this had been one o the lowest-

risk work trips he’d ever

taken. Just our days in Sa n Diego. And on a non-

weapons project.

“I mean, Marty really likes it,” Denise continued, “but it just seems

like nothing but boobs and snow and blood. And the rozen zombie

things. I just don’ t get them. It eels like not a lot ever actual ly happens,

y’know? Five years and they’re still talking about winter.”

Becky gathered up some socks, u nderwear, two T -

shirts, a skirt, and

a bra that h ad been scattered across the b edroom foor . She was a horri-

ble slo b whenever she had the house to hersel. Worse tha n she’d been

in college, or some reason she couldn’ t gure out. “So why do you keep

watching it?”

“Ehh. Mar ty really li kes it. He won ’t admit it, bu t I just think he like s

all the boobs. Are you guys still watching?”

She walked to the bath room, and shoved the armload o clothes into

the hamper. The bathroom was a mes s, too. Her yo ga clothes and more

underwear. How had she gone through so much underwear in our