She leans on the chair’s back. “Last time, your voodoo cards…” she says, waving at my deck, “They told me I’d come into money.”
I was trying to get Dale to feel self-conscious. Dale was my robot.
Frank hated airports and he felt that the feeling was mutual.
The director of the British Museum felt about as old and lost as the relics under his care. He entered his office, triggered the fireproof lock, and took off his jacket to stretch out his scaly wings.