This isn't weird.

Everything is Weird II (Electric Boogaloo)

He liked Tess. He'd always liked Tess, even when she was being certifiably awful to him. That was one of Ben's most fatal flaws—his predisposition toward liking people, even if the sentiment was roundly unreturned. He could see her better qualities, even if they were rarely pointed in his direction; she was reliable, tenacious, loyal, protective, and even funny, in her own caustic way. And Millie loved her. It was impossible not to have some soft spot for anyone who could so thoroughly earn Millie's devotion.

But the thing he'd always liked most of all about Tess was the moment they parted ways. It was like finally putting down a heavy load after carrying it for hours, or going out after a hail storm to find that his car hadn't taken any damage. The world felt like a softer, brighter place; the act of existing was suddenly a little easier than he remembered.

In other words, it put him in a damn good mood.

Today, especially. The crisp September air was a far cry from the humid East Texas sunrises he had endured over the past week, and after so many days trapped behind the wheel of his car, the physical relief of his morning run had left him with a pleasant buzz that, in spite of everything, stubbornly resumed as soon as Arthur's house disappeared from his rearview mirror.

Why he chose to stop at Benny's Donuts, of all places, he couldn't say. For months, he'd avoided even driving past it as much as physically possible. The sight of that bubblegum pink donut mounted to the overhang always made him think of Millie, when everything was new and exhilarating, and she was still little more than a resplendent mystery begging for a rigorous investigation. Usually the reminder was more depressing than he could handle, but this day, the memory felt a little less bitter and a little more sweet.

The cashier greeted him with a wide grin below an ill-advised attempt at a mustache, only marginally fuller than it had been the last time Ben had seen it. "Hey, I remember you!" he said. "Oliver Twist. Where's Her Ladyship today?"

The question didn't jab Ben in the heart quite as much as he expected. The casual assumption that they were still together—as friends, or otherwise—was actually a little heartening. "She's out of town on... Ladyship business."

"Well, heck. Tell'er I said hi."

"Sure." Ben nodded, then frowned thoughtfully and asked, "Was my cockney accent really that bad?"

The young cashier burst out laughing. "Oh my god, it was the worst attempt at an accent I've ever heard. Hers was pretty good, though. You should ask her to teach you."

Ouch. "Maybe I will," Ben said, trying not to sound sulky. He had asked for the feedback, after all.

"Maple with a black coffee?" Seeing Ben's stunned look, the boy tapped the side of his own head. "Steel trap."

"No kidding. That's impressive. No coffee today, but a dozen of the maples, if you've got enough." Then, contemplating the vast quantities of food he'd seen Dustin inhale when stoned, Ben added, "Maybe a dozen glazed, too."

"You got it!"

Ben left the shop in high spirits, increasingly convinced that Dustin couldn't possibly be angry. Dustin was never angry, and even if he was, that anger would surely be dissipated by the fun surprise of an unannounced donut delivery. Dustin loved surprises, and he loved deep fried desserts. Everything would be fine. Things would go right back to normal, he assured himself as he headed to the house with his surfeit of donuts in tow.

Alas, those poor donuts never stood a chance.

One moment, they were safe in his hands as he stood waiting for Dustin to answer the doorbell. Then the door swung open, and the box hit the ground, entirely forgotten as Ben staggered backward.