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Weekly Contest #46
In the air-conditioned conference room, Aberdeen Bedingfield broke out in a sweat. There seated across from her rested the seventy-two-year-old author Harriet Hatterman. Harriet wore a soaked fluorescent green and orange checkered rain-jacket with the hood pulled down to her eyebrows. Harriet did not indicate she knew Aberdeen or anyone else at the table for that matter. “Probably senile by now,” thought Aberdeen. Mavis Cassidy, known better as Nettie because she wore net stocking with her shorts, opened by pounding with her gavel. “I had to...
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