Things were just too weird in this house. She had to get out, and get out fast. But after food. The syrup-covered pancake was quickly devoured, a second on her plate before her final mouthful was finished. If nothing else, this old lady knew how to cook. The pancakes were irresistible, Phoebe polishing off her fifth when she called it quits.
“And what are your plans for today, my dear?"
Phoebe thought. Somewhere at the back of her mind, she sensed there had once been a plan, but with every bite of her glorious breakfast that scheme had grown more and more distant, forgettable. Now, she no longer remembered what was planned. Try as she might, her mind was blank. Even the events of the night were temporarily blocked from her conscious thought.
“So, my dear?"
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