That's when Link rang his doorbell and he startled guiltily and quit the
text editor, saving the opening sentence. Which had a lot of promise, he
thought.
"Link!" he said. "Come in!"
The kid had put on ten or fifteen pounds since they'd first met, and no
longer made Alan want to shout, *Someone administer a sandwich* stat*!*
Most of it was muscle from hard riding as a bike messenger, a gig that
Link had kept up right through the cold winter, dressing up like a
gore-tex Martian in tights and ski goggles and a fleece that showed
hints of purple beneath its skin of crusted road salt and pollution.
Andrew had noticed the girls in the Market and at Kurt's shop noticing
Link, whose spring wardrobe showed off all that new muscle to new
effect, and gathered from the various hurt looks and sulks from the
various girls that Link was getting more ass than a toilet-seat.
Her brother spent the winter turning into the kind of stud that
she'd figured out how to avoid before she finished high school,
and it pained her to see the hordes of dumb-bunnies making
goo-goo eyes at him.
That would be a good second sentence for his story.
"You okay, Abby?" Link said, looking concerned. Albert realized that
he'd been on another planet for a moment there.
"Sorry, just fell down a rabbit hole," he said, flapping his arms
comically.
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