Still Maurice, still yelling at inner critic. Will respond to other snippets later on this eve...400 words over lunch.
A Sad Story
I was about to beat it for the afternoon when my editor Barry Kenyon joined me in the kitchen.
"Quint." He shuffled past my swinging leg and opened the refrigerator, whistling "You Can't Take That Away From Me" as he reached in for a pie. I hated when he had pie. He would heat it up then and the office would stink for hours.
I could have called him "Ken" in response. Instead I said nothing. I didn't feel like it that day.
"Oh, did you hear the news?" he said casually. "Your mate, Roma Feilding. Found dead this morning. Been that way for weeks apparently."
"No, I hadn't heard. My God, what happened? Heart attack?"
Kenyon shook his head. "Note." he said succintly.
He meant: Roma Feilding had commited suicide.
Kenyon patted me on the back. "Sorry, Maurice. I know you and she were thick together. She was a game old girl, our Romie. Could drink any of us under the table." He shut the oven door and moved off. Of course he had forgotten to preheat the thing. His pie would be indigestible.
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ninetydegrees
Lunch pico, as will be out later tonight
on 2012-07-04 12:57 pm (UTC)A Sad Story
I was about to beat it for the afternoon when my editor Barry Kenyon joined me in the kitchen.
"Quint." He shuffled past my swinging leg and opened the refrigerator, whistling "You Can't Take That Away From Me" as he reached in for a pie. I hated when he had pie. He would heat it up then and the office would stink for hours.
I could have called him "Ken" in response. Instead I said nothing. I didn't feel like it that day.
"Oh, did you hear the news?" he said casually. "Your mate, Roma Feilding. Found dead this morning. Been that way for weeks apparently."
"No, I hadn't heard. My God, what happened? Heart attack?"
Kenyon shook his head. "Note." he said succintly.
He meant: Roma Feilding had commited suicide.
Kenyon patted me on the back. "Sorry, Maurice. I know you and she were thick together. She was a game old girl, our Romie. Could drink any of us under the table." He shut the oven door and moved off. Of course he had forgotten to preheat the thing. His pie would be indigestible.