Luther’s got his shopping list in his pocket, and it goes
and it’s everything he needs to get. He only has unsalted butter because he’s been baking and unsalted butter is better for batter and he hiccups with laughter on that thought. Then he laughs some more, and throws his keys as high as they’ll go, and tries to catch them before they hit the lawn. He misses.
He feels like some ridiculous children’s museum exhibit where everybody gets sogged and soapy, just an explosion of bubbles and a placard that nobody reads. Butter and Jared. Jared and butter.