The Stranger

by Harlan Coben

Bob was a big puff pastry of a man with the kind of bright smile you find only on the dim.

“Bob’s going through a lot right now.”

“Bob’s an ass waffle.”

Gaston’s pumpkin-size head filled the passenger-side window.

what started as a happy habit turns into something of an obsession.

Adam laid his head on the pillow, blinked up at the ceiling, and just let the gentle sounds of his still home overwhelm him.

The world moves on, which is an outrage.

The stranger sat at a corner table at the Red Lobster in Beachwood, Ohio, just outside of Cleveland.

But the crackle turned more into mania as time passed. The crackle was fun and spontaneous, but the unpredictability wore his father down, aged him. There were great ups, but they were eventually decimated by the growing number of great downs.

The wine tasted like fish ass.