The seat of the car felt unusually uncomfortable, and I shifted around a little bit. How many hours—maybe hundreds of hours, since Colin'd had this car a long damn time—had I spent in this seat?
If you did a 3D scan of it, it'd probably conform exactly to the shape of my ass. It was perfectly comfortable.
The discomfort was all on me.
"You don't have to stick around, you know. You have shit to do. Like running a whole pack."
"Ahhh. I was wondering when you would get around to that. The whole, 'I don't need help, I only called you because I was freaking out for a second, but everything's fine, I'm an independent person who doesn't need anyone—'"
