Where the Wild Things Hunt

Shadow stood on the edge where the dormant grass met the rip-rap-covered bank. In the bay, the water gently lapped against grayish rocks. Rusty water, made less inviting by the bright sunlight. Through oval glasses he didn’t need, he stared at the ferryas itapproached the docks. He’d been compelled to wear them, putting on the face of an intellectual. People stereotyped glasses-wearers as geeks, nerds, and squares long before Velma began single-handedly solving mysteries for the gang. He coul...