The roommate situation
It is 1:00 a.m. Ken and I are in our beds, recounting our days. (They were long.) “Four classes, two house tours, and practice,” I say. “I would describe this sleep as ‘well-earned.’”
Ken agrees. Minutes pass.
A voice snaps me out of my half-sleep. “Do you know what I say about my grandfather’s ashes?”
His tone is too even, the subject too serious. I can’t see it coming.
“Well-urned.”