Donnelly feeds Moondragon fish flakes. Then he wanders to my off-kilter bookshelves and studies them. He tells me, “All I know is that she either has some special power or she’s just good at reading people.” He doesn’t mention the broken Spider-Man mug. Just spins around and examines my childhood room like he’s archiving the fauna of a new planet. “See anything you like?” I ask. He swings his head. “Looking at her.”
