By Chris Munroe
So last week’s mission didn’t exactly go smoothly...
You were caught slipping the note into the book, the librarian alerted an international network of booksellers and librarians, and now you’re on the run, legions of angry, literate assassins hounding your every move.
I can’t help, in some small way, feeling responsible.
Tell you what, run to Canada, hide here until it blows over. I’ll meet you at Tipparary’s, even buy the first round.
It’ll be okay.
Because here, at the bar.
You’ll feel safest of all.
We can lock all the doors.
It’s the only way to live.
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