When Time Ran Crooked

75 hours, 11 minutes and 58 seconds Until

We didn't talk for the longest time. I could feel all the heat slowly fading from the water, until eventually the only warmth I could feel was that radiating from Claude's skin. And even though he was pressed right up against me, that wasn't saying much.

Abruptly, without any warning, Claude grabbed my foot and yanked it up to face level.

"What the fuck are you doing?" I demanded.

"I'm checking if you have frostbite," he informed me. "Which is very much a possibility considering you went outside in your Birkenstocks."

"Yeah, that was a pretty big mistake, wasn't it?" I was in no place to disagree with him, even if it was weird that my toes were three inches from his face and he was gawking very intently at them.

"I'll say! You could've die-"

"I mean, I will always regret losing my Birkenstocks," I told him. "My most faithful ally in this dark, twisted world of foot fetishes and avid fans of NPR."

Claude scowled at me from behind my foot. "Firstly, I don't have a foot fetish, I'm trying to check if you could have frost bite. And secondly, there is nothing wrong with loving a little NPR now and then."

"Claude, please tell me that you were referring to loving and NPR in the same sentence ironically," I pleaded.

He just looked up at me and smirked.

As horrifying as the thought was that he was inferring, I was still proud of his sass (maybe I was rubbing off on him).

"Now, the real question is: do you want the good news or the bad news first?" He questioned, placing my foot back down in the tub.

"Bad news," I said, instantly, knowing he was probably going to tell me that I was dying or something and afterwards, hopefully, he would inform me that he found my Birkenstocks as good news.

"Well, the good news is-" Suddenly, he scowled, sputtering to a stop like the little engine that just couldn't. "Wait, Bea, you're messing it up."

"What? You asked me if I wanted the good news or bad news first, and I made my decision," I argued.

Claude sighed. "Bea, everyone knows that's a trick question. It's practically rhetorical."

"If it practically was then I practically would've known it," I snapped. "And, besides, how does that make any sense? Wouldn't you want to know the bad news first so that the good news could possibly cheer you up?"

"That's not how they do it on television," he combated.

I almost face-palmed. "Claude, please don't tell me that you use television as a reference point for human interaction."

"I think you've already used that line," he informed me.

I scowled. "For the love of . . . Have I actually already had to give you the talk about the differences between reality and television shows? Clau-"

"No, I meant the format of the joke." He shocked his head. "Never mind. Do you even want to hear the news at all?"

I shrugged. "Can you tell me the bad news first?"

"No."

"Whatever."

"Well, you don't have frostbite," Claude informed me. "Isn't that just dandy?"