No one really knew what exactly Melinda did at the small chamber of commerce office. She rarely answered the phone, stored nothing in her filing cabinets, and kept her desk meticulously, if not suspiciously free of paper. In fact, a computer, a few pens, and a slim planner kept a lonely vigil amidst a sea of polished mahogany.
Every visitor to her office noticed the sparkling clean neatness of every single surface. Instead of the mish mash of furniture styles in Chuck’s office, every piece of furniture matched as if she had ordered a complete set from the catalogue. In fact, Melinda often told guests that such a catalogue is exactly her office came to look so magnificent.
Tactfully waiting until Melinda was cheered by the completion of her golden wine, Church sauntered down the hall and leaned against the right side of Melinda’s door frame with his entire left arm pressed along it. His legs angled to the left while his slumped forward. Melinda pondered Chuck’s endless visits to the chiropractor.
“Making peace?” Melinda inquired.
Ed Cyzewski: Author // Contemplative 