Monday, December 25, 2006

Sudbury, where, yes, even the rocks are friendly

Caucasian male, mid 40s, with practically parted brown hair and trimmed moustache, wearing pressed Mark's Work Warehouse jeans, brown hiking shoes and a black jacket with a welding patch on the left chest panel. He sits midday reading in one of the bookstore's comfy chairs, legs crossed, foot bouncing, his glasses low on his nose.

Bolo!, David Weber (Baen)

Page 134:

He sighed and rubbed his face with his hands, and fear fluttered in the pit of his belly.
He told his wife he'd be grabbing lunch with some of the folks at work. He'd said it just felt like the right thing to do, break bread, what with upper management canceling the annual office potluck. (Just as well, last year they never got around to posting a sign-up sheet. Everyone just assumed someone else would handle the main. It was all microwaved crescent rolls. Thank God for Judy and her Five Cup Salad.) Then he had a few last minute errands. No, he'd said, I won't tell you. Because, he'd said, then it wouldn't be a surprise. Not to worry, he wouldn't be long, back in plenty of time to get Susie from the airport...and this guy she'd decided to bring. But, just for now, he'd take some time away, in the comfy chair, beside the guy reading the fishing magazine, and the striking woman touching the covers of the books on the display table to his left. Yes, right now, was his time.


Sabine said...

Please, go on, just this once, tell us more.

Julie Wilson said...

The crescent rolls...were served with butter! Oh, I'm a tease. :)

The next entry is a fair bit longer...does that count?