She longed to own something lasting, anything, but knew her wishes to be stupid. Birthdays just ain’t the same once you get old kiddo. He had taken it back. There was a pause, while the steel grey eyes sliced at her. ‘Oh, you may come to me on any mission you like,’ uttered Mrs Sindlesham roguishly. To have written a short story in a week was rather a remarkable feat. She would not look at him, would not think of him; when her mind wavered, then she muttered to herself in the darkness so as to keep hold of her generalizations. linked image back linked image back MADEMOISELLE AT ARMS Elizabeth Bailey © 2011 by Elizabeth Bailey All rights reserved. ” She took the blue box from her hoodie and held it towards him.
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