The Love and I had to murder two people and destroy the evidence. We were at a party. The Branagan boy was there. The Love did the first murder and cut the body into little pieces. We were ok, nobody had noticed. I was so relieved he had done the hard work. The second body we boiled down into tiny cups of tomato soup.
“I could just drink the evidence,” I said to The Love, feeling uneasy about how he’d react.
“Ok,” he said. “Sounds like a good plan.”