She blew a layer of dust off the plaque on the statue of the giant half-orc.
He brought the torch closer but kept his eyes on the dark.
She translated, “Cragrun Swordbringer. Beat Grom Twolegs running the crag. Forgot his sword.”
She blew a layer of dust off the plaque on the statue of the giant half-orc.
He brought the torch closer but kept his eyes on the dark.
She translated, “Cragrun Swordbringer. Beat Grom Twolegs running the crag. Forgot his sword.”
He took the same route to work every day. He used the front entrance always, walked the same hallways, made the first pot of coffee, sat in the same cubicle, used the same restroom, refilled his coffee at 9:30, ate lunch at 11:30 – every day.
Their paths intersected in the break-room. “Haven’t seen you in a while!” she said.
She seemed to be expecting a response. He couldn’t, for the life him, determine what.
“Things have been crazy,” he tried.
She told him all about her crazy life, delighted to be understood.