(Got kind of overwhelmed this week, so I’m dipping into my Haunted buffer instead of releasing a new chapter. Honestly, I should have split the last chapter into two parts.)

 

Me: That makes absolutely no sense.

Myself: No, there’s precedent. You’ve already set up that he likes his hands being covered. Look at the gloves. Look at the water sleeves.

Me: There’s no way a 32-year-old coastal elite, in the late nineties, would wear a turtleneck sweater with thumb holes.

Myself: Shut your ASSHOLE FACE I NEED THIS