Jack let the door fall closed behind him. He looked into the apartment, categorizing the level of disaster it was this time: just a few discarded socks here and there, a stack of magazines on the kitchen counter by the stove (love a fire hazard) and one box of what looked to be Shelley-Murphy-née-Tao's patent-pending steamed roll rice noodles, which he moved carefully into the fridge. And-- okay, he heard the record player clicking in the living room.
( He almost missed the guy sprawled over the sofa. )
[[ open for phone calls et al ]]
( He almost missed the guy sprawled over the sofa. )
[[ open for phone calls et al ]]