“WHAT’S GOING ON OUTSIDE?” Brett asked, using his breath to cool down his tea.
“Apocalypse,” Morgan said.
“Did they forecast an apocalypse?”
“Oh, I mean, they’ve been calling for it for a long time, but you can’t always go by the forecast.”
“Sixty percent chance of apocalypse. Forty percent chance of flurries.”
“Exactly.”
It was starting to snow.
“Oh, I guess it’s just flurries. I was really rooting for apocalypse that time.”
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