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May 18, 2007
"Pass the ketchup," Steve said, as he stuck another French fry up his nose. She handed it over, not looking at him, just out of the window.

“Don’t get any on your shirt. I’m not going to the laundry again until next week, whether you have anything clean to wear or not.”

Steve, who didn’t like to do his french fry thing unless it would completely gross her out, dislodged his potato wedges.

“Where are you lately,” he asked. “You’re not as much fun as you used to be.”

“Sorry,” she said. “I’m waiting on Newt.”

“Should I be jealous?”