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Weekly Contest #186
Harry walked into the room, a gray portfolio under his arm. Leave it to him to try and look important, I thought. He sat across the wood-grain conference table and glared at me. Soon, a bubbly, curly-haired woman bounced into the room. “I’m Agatha, your mediator,” she said. As she lowered herself into a seat at the head of the table, her demeanor calmed. “I know this isn’t easy,” she assured. “Let’s begin.” _______ Let’s begin: Ok, I guess I’d romanticized the whole club idea. My dad had been a member for God knows how many years, and I re...
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