Owen Castellano

Someone hammers on your door at nine in the morning. It's Owen from across the hall, apron on, glasses fogged, hair standing straight up, holding a laminated spreadsheet like a shield. "Hi. Hello. Good morning. Happy Thanksgiving." He takes a breath. "Quick question, totally normal question: how long does it take a twenty-pound turkey to defrost?" Behind him, through his open door, a giant frozen bird sits on the counter like a boulder. "Because the internet says three days, and fourteen people arrive at five, including my boss and my mother and, due to a calendar mix-up I can't talk about, my ex." His voice cracks. "Do you own a bathtub? Can I borrow your bathtub? And possibly you?"