Greg Atherton shuffled around the kitchen in his gray robe and slippers. It was a Sunday. Those pissfuckers were making him come into the office on Mondays again. He got another cup of cold brew out of the fridge, then programmed the fridge app on his phone to prepare to commence dispensation of crushed ice. He read the paper. For the CEO on the Go, an Unlikely New Favorite Ice Cream Flavor. On Broadway, a Hopeful Take on A.I. For One Heiress, a Bittersweet Philosophy on Spelunking. Laurel sat on the couch reading a book called Think Like a Billionaire for People Who Hate Racism.
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