Here are the words for the Sunday Wordle #368
That morning, the sky was a shade of blue that hardly ever happens— kind of a light turquoise, maybe a little darker. A warm wind blew from the west, causing the leaves on the willow trees to shimmer in the morning sunlight. The Farquhar family farm was beautiful in the spring but Jason couldn’t have cared less. The only thing on his mind was scoring some grass. He’d been out for two days, which was pretty much unheard of for Jason. He always had weed, until now.
The usual freak that he bought from was MIA. Nobody had seen him around and he wasn’t answering his phone. Word on the street was that the guy, Harry, had gotten busted. If that was the case, Jason was screwed; no one else would sell to him because he was a Farquhar. Mr. Farquhar, Jason’s dad, was a wildly successful litigation attorney, and a veritable rock star in certain circles.
Jason had been through rehab twice, and his father was all done being embarrassed by his wayward son.
Jason decided to go to Harry’s apartment himself and see what the deal was. When he arrived at the complex, Harry’s Corvette was in its designated parking space, which Jason figured was a good sign. He jogged up the two flights of stairs and knocked on the door. No answer.
He could hear the TV blaring one of the news channels, so he tried the doorknob. It was unlocked and Jason walked in.
There on the sofa sat a person whom he assumed was Harry the Freak. Someone had wrapped thick silver duct tape all around his head. There was a piece of notebook paper scotch-taped to the body’s t-shirt that read, “Forget it, Jason.”