Gunner was no good at good-byes. He’d pulled a French exit when leaving to New York for the Summer, only giving so much as an Instagram story of the pavement with New York City as his tagged location as a heads up. But if anything, he was even worse with reuniting, merely showing up in Lovell and making himself comfortable in the backyard of a party without mentioning to anyone that he’d made it back, “Oh, hey,” he called out automatically from where he was lounging on the patio railing, “I’m predicting my future with a pendulum. Extremely spiritual stuff. It said I’m going to die in a month - predictions? I assumed something exciting. Maybe a shark attack,” They were nowhere near any sharks, “You wanna ask it something? I think you’re only supposed to get three questions, so you gotta make ‘em good.” @radopens