Existential dread level: normal. Whatever he did seems to have worked.
No one wanted to sit down after the machine said, “Do not mistake the body for the patient.”
He had narrowed it down to two cards and one fruit.
My work here is done. Her ruling, not mine.
I shouldn’t have let Mabel pack my lunch.
"The bench was dedicated to a man who, by all accounts, preferred standing."
"No one could prove the Ficus was in charge, which was exactly how the Ficus wanted it."
Nora. Formerly “the shoe lady.”
We had a good talk. Turns out we have a few things
"The ducks accepted his apology, but not his version of events."
The first rule of puddle club is no one admits they’re in puddle club.
