It popped up as I was hunting for a Wilder-Fury stream.
Got Flo’s? Got Jakes?
Ask for Junebug.
Bonafide Spoon Gazer.
I didn’t know what those words meant, but I asked for Junebug.
“Got Jakes?” She enquired.
“I don’t know,” I replied.
“The ad said ask for Junebug.”
“Then you’re in luck. Initial consultation is half price. This week only. Better think fast.”
Junebug arrived by taxi with the dusk and a little wheeled carry-on bag in tow.
Apparently, the sun had never touched her skin, which looked to be constructed out of ballistic gelatine.
She bounced her luggage up the stairs, and the tips of her colourless hair refracted rainbows of porch light.
She brushed past me, and I realized my own hair was standing on end.
“Gonna offer me something to…