Dance in the Full Moon

O, the Frailty of Memory

Monday, September 23, 2019

9.23

There was, somewhere in Nathan's bag, a solution to the current problem. He just knew it. Maybe the pencil sharpener in the front most utility pocket, or the metal straw in the water bottle, or the small pocketknife on a lanyard at the bottom of the bag. All these were useless to him now that he had thrust the bag into the lair's front entrance, not counting on there being a back entrance.
"Oh, bother," he said, and he felt it was a very keen understatement indeed.

No comments:

Post a Comment