Postcard Vignettes

The desk had been set up in anticipation of this moment. The mahogany gleamed with a rich dark hue, having been lovingly oiled and polished ‘til the grains no longer were like rivulets in the sand, now smooth to the touch.

The postcard came, unbidden and unwelcome. Who did Babe think she was anyway?

It’s hot. I’m very tired. I should be enjoying my stay here, but I’m not.