The book goes flying, possibly the first literary astronaut of our time, before it is stopped by the ceiling above and crashes back down onto his head. Such is his life. Clutching his skull, he turns to stare wide-eyed and slack-faced at Malia.
“What are you,” he hisses, voice lowered carefully, “some kind of coyote ninja!?”
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The book goes flying, possibly the first literary astronaut of our time, before it is stopped by the ceiling above and crashes back down onto his head. Such is his life. Clutching his skull, he turns to stare wide-eyed and slack-faced at Malia.
“What are you,” he hisses, voice lowered carefully, “some kind of coyote ninja!?”