79. Pseudo Father

“Hey, Gerald!” I greet my pseudo-father figure enthusiastically as the video call connects.

Gerald blinks at me and then blinks at the corner of his own phone to see the time. He’s so at odds with how he generally looks, with his hair rumbled, his eyes bleary, and he looks like he’d just gotten an hour of sleep after staying up for a week. Also, he’s wearing a t-shirt of all things. I have never seen Gerald in a t-shirt before, and it feels so very odd to even witness it. Gerald always reminded me of the butler in Batman, hell, they even looked the same in some ways except for the fact that Gerald was awfully bulky and in a good shape for a man his age. And every time I saw him, no matter the time of the day, he was always dressed in some sort of suit. Before today, I would’ve sworn the man basically lived in suits, and maybe he was even born in one.

But now my worldview has turned.

“Jace?” Gerald utters my name as if he’s in a dream that is rapidly turning into a nightmare, “what the
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