How are you doing that?" He asked me. His voice sounded like a teenager's, around my age of seventeen years. I blinked, confused. "Doing what?" "The snowstorm. That." He pointed to the swirling flakes of snow around me. "I- I don't know. I thought you were doing it. You're the super here." He looked at me like I was...
"Every time I knock you out, you drool," Phantom points at my black shirt sleeve with a gloved finger. I groan in frustration, there's a puddle of drool on it! Talk about embar-ras-sing... "Then here's an easy solution: Don't knock me out," I say snidely as an attempt to keep my nonexistent pride. "What makes you thin...