Bruce shifts his shoulders a bit at the door before he
opens it, lifting – he hopes – the heavy cloak of dread and sadness he knows he’s
wearing. He pushes quietly at the lock
and eases into the entryway.
(Okay...I know I didn't catch up today, but I did hit the mark...just. This is how deadline freaks work. I started by re-writing most of what I wrote yesterday...so if yesterday's sentence seems to be in a slightly different voice, that's why. I am also wondering how long caramels last, since I opened a bag I found in the pantry and ate about 200 of them while I was pounding away here. They tasted a bit funny. Oh well. Now I'm wondering how late Pei Wei is open...look for a finished book and a fat butt on my birthday!)
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