The Curmudgeon and the Wormhole
The man sitting across from me is clean-shaven, wearing a shirt and tie, and smells like he’s had a shower and a cup of coffee. Not something I’m used to. I’ve spent the last few months on Bomba, and there the men are unshaven and shirtless, with brands on their sunburned arms, and smelling like complete ass; which is how I’d describe myself right now.
And so starts the The Curmudgeon and the Wormhole.