“I can’t go back in there. I can’t. I won’t.” Jimmy was hyperventilating even as she spoke.

“What’s the matter?” said Roger. “Was Great Uncle Frank being racist again?”

“No, it’s…it’s…”

“Cousin Mary trying to sell you NFTs?”

“It’s that ghastly fig bisque your mother made,” Jimmy wailed. “It’s the worst thing I’ve ever tasted, and I can’t be in the same room as it.”

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