Elliot stood there, holding his lukewarm coffee, surrounded by neatly folded laundry and a puddle of fabric softener.
Luna paused at the door, her velvet cape draped over one arm. She smiled that crooked smile again. Meet Cute
Luna looked up at him, and her eyes—hazel, with flecks of gold that caught the fluorescent light like tiny suns—widened. Then she grinned. It was a crooked, unapologetic grin, the kind that said she’d been getting away with things her entire life. Elliot stood there, holding his lukewarm coffee, surrounded
“I’m fine,” she announced to the room, even though no one had asked. “I meant to do that. It’s a new performance art piece called ‘Tuesday.’” Elliot stood there
She tripped over the IKEA bag.