I made eye contact with Benyamin as we entered the happily uncrowded, low-top tabled back room. A smiling Middle Eastern man with a one-word nametag, I knew immediately the Bissell in his hand spelled trouble.
‘Most of all, please make it fit for young readers. My sister has standards, I beg that you meet hers. Under no circumstance unveil the puzzle. The item I sought to buy? Call it…the wuzzle.’