“Where is the little prince?” I ask Chanelle. He wrinkles his nose. He really only cares if he can get a treat out of me.
The garden soaks up the light rain, the lawn needs to be mowed, and it’ll all renew and Maine sets itself up for hikes and bike rides again, ending the quest for anything on, next to or in the water.
Little Prince, where are you?
More MI-5 guys appearing, police men disappearing, it must get close.
Update: and there he was, at 2:18pm EST.