Re: Maddy, Gabe, Open
“A calendar would imply I plan things.” Maddy smiled at him over her drink. “I don’t really have a religion. Oooh... Who’s the patron saint of mischief? Is there a goddess of... harmless chaos I can pay tribute to, but only on a whim, with whatever I happen to have in my purse?”
The object in question hung from a thin, silvery chain on her shoulder. Maddy held her flower between her teeth and handed Gabe her drink. She rooted through the itsy, bitsy purse and produced a tube of lipstick, a mirror, a McDonalds’s receipt, and a foil-wrapped condom.