“Bad dream,” he whispered.
Her heart seized. The fantasy shattered. This was the fine print of the lifestyle—the tiny human who could summon you back to reality with a single word.
The entertainment never ended. It just changed zip codes. fucking the babysitter
But as she unlocked the door to her own shoebox apartment—the one with the flickering hallway light and the roommate who never did dishes—she realized the truth.
Tomorrow, she had a shift at the campus coffee shop. But Friday? Friday, the Millers were going out of town. And they had a hot tub. “Bad dream,” he whispered
“See? Not real. Purple squirrels don’t exist. You’re safe.”
“Not once,” Chloe said, smiling.
“There was a giant squirrel. It wanted my granola bar.”