Later, Adam walked out through the cold, damp night to his small, shitty car. As he sank into the driver’s seat, he found something already sitting on the seat.
He retrieved the object and held it up under the feeble interior cab light. It was a small white plastic container. Adam twisted off the lid. Inside was a colorless lotion that smelled of mist and moss. Replacing the lid with a frown, he turned the container over, looking for more identifying features. On the bottom, Ronan’s handwriting labeled it merely: manibus.
For your hands.
