“Geez, what happened to you?” Logan came out from behind the serving area as Ever came in through the front door.

  “What do you mean?” Ever said offhandedly. Was it that obvious that he was injured? He thought that he did a decent job of looking normal. Apparently it wasn’t good enough.

  “Something’s wrong,” Logan said. He stood in front of Ever, appraising him with his arms crossed. A heavy frown seemed to weigh his face down, etching a deep groove between his eyebrows. “You’re flushed and your breathing is shallow.”

  Ever stopped respiring and immediately regretted it as a dagger of pain slid between his third and fourth ribs. He explained what had happened, gasping every few seconds. Something strange was happening: his vision swam, as if gremlins were twisting his eyeballs from the inside.

  “Whoa there,” Logan said, moving towards a staggering Ever, arms ready. “We’ve got to call the police.” Ever looked back, out of the window. The heinous hot dog seller was long gone. “Sit down,” his boss ordered. The chair squeaked as he dragged it out. Ever fell into it, half sitting, half slumping. “What flavor do you want?”

  “What?”

  “Ice cream. Or sorbet." Logan strode back to the serving area. "Sugar will help.”

  “How?”

  “Just…” he clanged the scoop.

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  “OK. Give me the rainbow, in a cup.”

  Logan deftly rolled his wrist, plopping the icy treat into a paper cup, hurrying over to give it to him. Ever scooped in one spoonful, then another. Less than a minute later, it was a multicolored slurry slowly softening the cup. Logan was right, he did feel better. At least it felt like his eyeballs were working again.

  “You can take the rest of the day off.” Logan was back to crossing his arms, with that cleft between his eyebrows. Ever didn’t understand age very well yet, but if Logan was Taylor’s uncle, that would make him in his 50’s or 60’s. Maybe it was just his unlined skin, his sharp, brusque demeanor or both, but he didn’t feel that old to Ever. The concern he was showing him stood in sharp contrast to his usual self. Was this how it was like to have a father?

  “Hey,” Logan barked.

  Ever shook his head lightly, eyes refocusing on Logan’s face. “Yes, I heard you.” He stood up slowly. Already, he was feeling less shaky. “Are you sure you’ll be OK here by yourself?”

  “Yes, I’ll be OK,” he said, holding back a scoff. “Do you need me to walk you home?”

  “No,” Ever said quickly. The last thing he needed was for him to see that he lived in the cemetery. “I’ll go home. I’ll take my time.”

  “Alright then. Tell me how you’re feeling and whether you’re able to come in tomorrow.”

  “Sure.”

  Ever walked out of Pagoto’s, past the window and down the footpath. Death dialed into his mind.

  You might want to go into reaper mode, that should dull the pain.

  *OK*.

  He walked gingerly into the alley that he usually transformed in before going on reapings. There was a rustling. An empty Corona bottle rolled, clinking against the wall.

  “Hello?” Ever called out.