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Weekly Contest #211
Farley stood in front of the fireplace, retying his cravat in the brassy looking glass that leaned haphazardly on the mantel. “Do we have any brandy, Fipps?” Fipps uncrossed his legs and stood from the armchair stuffed in the corner of the room, tucked between adjacent bookcases. “Farley, when do we not have brandy?” As he crossed to the silver plate that held the decanter and glasses, he conceded, “Well, I suppose when you drain an entire bottle on an exam night.” “Do I detect reproach, Fipps?” Farley gave the cravat a tug, brushing down ...
Buy box of Earl Grey, Marissa scrawled on a Post-It, pressing the pastel pink square to the bottom edge of her desktop.She was down to her last two tea bags, and to run out of tea in the library was surely a cardinal sin. Not for the first time, she wished that they were allowed candles at their desks, even very little ones. She did not have Miss Irene's debilitating blend of anxiety and reverence that prohibited fire, open beverages, or so much as a granola bar within three hundred feet of the stacks. The supervisor often eyed even Marissa'...
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