The Prince Who Stole Music

household materials discarded after their inevitable breakage, the occasional robot or officer patrolling the street with enhanced hearing.

Blake and K.C. continued to hang posters.

“I’m better at putting posters on than you,” Blake said. “What?” K.C. asked incredulously. “Mine are put up beautifully with skill and precision while yours are haphazard and wonky.” “Nothing about this situation is skillful or beautiful,” K.C. remarked, not noticing how Blake looked at her, mumbling something under his breath. “Speak up!” K.C. said, wanting to know what Blake was saying. “I said,” Blake started, already turning to walk away, “There’s one beautiful thing about this situation.” “What is it?” “You.”