Moros’ corporeal form is an awkward tangle of too-long limbs and too-narrow hips, neither of which ease his drive through the congested streets of lower Manhattan. He quite enjoys...
"MONA!" bellowed Maverick Moody, on an otherwise tranquil Tuesday morning. "MONA! The children have sent something. I think it's a bomb."
Mrs Moody shuffled in...
“Returning was, in many ways, harder than setting out had been. My nerves were wrecked, I couldn’t feel my legs, and the silence had finally caught up to me.”
"My excess baggage had resulted in a handbag full of hostile playdates: a downcast novella, one teaspoon of sanitizer, two broken chargers, a single shoe from a pair of Doc Martens, and a beanie.”