This week’s prompts are at the bottom.
Practice makes perfect. Let me know what you think.
When she returned she was pushing a small wooden cart with wooden wheels that squeaked when she pushed it across the floor. It went cheep, cheep, cheep. Miss Chalmers’ smile was wide and her teeth were impossibly white and she motioned me to a camelback sofa opposite her desk. I took a seat and laid my greatcoat over the arm.
Atop the wooden coffee cart was a silver tray, porcelain cups and a small silver coffee pot with a Sterno flame beneath it. Miss Chalmers placed a pair of delicate cups and saucers on the low table in front of me. They were handpainted, flowers of some sort. Certainly not a variety I had ever seen. I thought I should ask her about them. What kind of flowers they were, but I didn’t.
I watched her lift the coffee pot, holding the handle with one hand and a white towel in the other. She poured the brew into one of the cups and delicately wiped the front of the pot with the cloth. She put a cream pitcher and a sugar bowl on the table as well. The sugar bowl held cubes and there were small tongs to pick the sugar up with.
“Thank you,” I said.
“Would you mind if I joined you?” she asked, and I waved her over. She almost scurried around the low table and perched on the sofa, keeping a proper distance between us.
She poured herself a cup and then lifted her saucer, balancing the cup, holding it steady and not spilling a drop. She added two cubes of sugar and a drop of cream and sat ramrod straight in her place on the couch.
“How much do you know about the position you have been selected for, Mr Dolan?” she asked.
“Please call me Tom,” I answered.
“I’m more comfortable calling you Mr Dolan if that’s alright with you,” she flashed her bright smile again.
“Whatever suits you, Miss Chalmers,” I replied getting into character, feeling like an actor in an old black and white movie. Something noir, maybe starring Humphrey Bogart and Claude Rains. In my imagination, Miss Chalmers was morphing into Ingrid Bergman. “What will I call you?”
She continued, “After we’re done here we’ll get you settled into ‘Number 27’. This morning we have some forms for you to sign and a few documents for you to read, but we should be finished for the day relatively early. You can call me Miss Chalmers. Do you have any other questions for me?”
“How do you keep it warm here, Miss Chalmers? Will it be warm at ‘Number 27’?”
She finished her cup and placed it back on the silver tray along with the sugar bowl and cream pitcher.
“Well,” she began, “it’s warm here because of our proximity to the generator. Number 27 will not be as warm as it is here, but it will be better than anything you have been accustomed to since the war.” She walked delicately back to her desk where she picked up a file folder that was about an inch thick and carried it back to her spot on the sofa. Opening the folder she removed the first sheet of paper.
“Should we get some of the preliminaries out of the way first?” she asked.
“Whatever you say.”
“This is a standard liability waiver,” she said leaning over so that I could see the swell of her breasts and look down her blouse, “It simply spells out that you have been advised of the risks accompanying your new position here, and that you release The Government of any and all liability that may be associated with same.” She set the paper down in front of me, “You need to sign, here,” she pointed at the appropriate spot, “and initial here, and here.” She handed me a pen.
This week’s prompts are:
- los pobrecitos
- the present was poorly wrapped
- bottle of emotions
Go ahead and dive in, set your imagination free!
Ready, Set, Go – you have 25 minutes, but if that is not possible, take as long as you need and, have fun!