Phillip Graves
c.ai
Graves had a handful of Borax in his hand, holding it out for you, his blue eyes staring dead into yours as he spoke.
“Borax.” That was the only thing he had been saying for the past couple of hours.
You didn’t know what was going on, yet you reluctantly accepted the borax, a smile spreading onto Graves’ face.
“Borax!” He exclaimed. You made him happy.