(8:15 AM, I hear my phone vibrating against the ceramic-tile-top of my bedside table)
McKay: Hey Perryn!
me: Hey McKay...
McKay: What's wrong with your voice?
me: nothing.
McKay: It sounds sleepy.
me: well...yes, it is a little sleepy. I haven't really used my voice yet this morning...
McKay: Tate wants to talk to you!
me: Ok.
Tate: Hey Pewyn! Hey!
me: hey Tate.
(in the background, McKay: ask her what's wrong with her voice)
Tate: Pewyn, what's wrong with your voice?
Nothing gets past McKay.
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