Status Updates From Моя вбивча відпустка

That's how I end up on my back, face up, with two hundred fifty pounds of muscle on top of me.

You don't like me around what?

Danger.

I'm a consenting adult. I choose my own risks.

Scream sneezers. People who feel the need to make such a huge, loud production out of their sneeze that everyone loses ten years off their life. I dislike that very much.

If I can't wrap one single case up without a blunder, I never should have graduated from the academy.

Focus.

Let him know he's not just dealing with a bumbling podcast junkie. I'm a pandemic-era teacher, d@mmit. That basically qualifies me for a presidential run.

Jude and I stare at each other, jaws in our laps.

(I like that visual. LOL)

We weren't even in Cape Cod yet when the murder took place.

How can you have alibis when time of death hasn't been determined?

Taylor estimates Myles is "at least six foot five."

I won't acknowledge how my ribcage seems to shrink-wrap around my heart, throwing off the steady beat.

Myles calls Taylor "half pint". He's "a good ten inches taller".

~~~~~

"Her gaze drops to my mouth for a split second, but it's enough to make my briefs feel like an XL instead of an XXL."

She has to be eight or nine years younger than me. Mid-twenties to my mid-thirties.

I don't look twice at cute women. Anything cute, really. That would be like a tractor admiring a dandelion. Looking might seem like a fine idea, but tractors are built to mow down dandelions. It's what they do.