Playing His Game

To Mo, it seemed like one minute, he was bent in half with his feet behind his ears, praising Adam, his muscles, his sense of rhythm, and whatever deity made him, and the next minute, Christmas was almost upon them and so was the countdown to their flight.

Well, flights, plural, because no airline flew Phoenix to Fredericton.

Adam had muttered so darkly about the need to change planes in Toronto that even Mo didn’t have the guts to ask follow-up questions about their itinerary.

Now, with their departure only three days away, the imminent arrival of Christmas and Mo’s very empty suitcase were all too real.