Picking Up the Pieces
"Made it worse?" Joe’s hand was a claw as he pressed the smartphone against his ear. "Fuck that. The vase was falling before I arrived. It shattered. Don’t get pissed at me."
Restin watched his tirade from across the room. Ferise sidled up, dark eyes fixed on Joe while her mouth worked on a hard candy.
"What do you think?" she asked. Restin could smell orange.
He watched Joe's fitful gestures.
"Weirdly pudgy," Restin said.
The call ended. Joe’s breathing was heavy.
"Bastards couldn't even die for their country," he murmured, "Ate it over a goddamn polymer patent."