Red Velvet Lilies, Chapter 1
See previous for tedious... information.
Dust and coffee… both were bitter. But that it was the dust from this place, the coffee shared with these people, made the combination sweet.
She pulled a face as she took a regretful swig at the caffeinated beverage, startled that enough time had passed for it to acquire the unfortunate lukewarm quality that no one included among his or her pet peeves because it was universally implied. Having done a fine job at zoning out with her somewhat sentimental mood, she quickly grounded herself by checking her schedule. Not one item had been crossed off just yet, and she was not okay with that.
Done with drifting, she quickly prioritized her list. Chuck, bless his proactive tendencies, had managed an order that was, at first glance, quite sound. His version had been listed by importance, true enough, but she felt the need to factor in urgency as well. Re-writing the list, by hand this time, revealed only one significant change, so she tossed it and kept the original with a shorthand notation next to the item in question. She would make a point of being seen with this copy—Chuck suffered no lack of competence, and Elizabeth wished to reinforce that notion with both of them without the air of an overbearing mother hen. She placed her coffee just out of reach so as to further prevent absentmindedly downing more disappointment, at least until it was cold enough to drink again.
She set to work.
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Her mind had reached the steady state of routine that was reminiscent of studying for an essay test, with the calm absorption of information with the occasional segue into practical thoughts of application. Mostly she stored the facts, to be called up for use later. But a third of the way down her list, including the odd item change she had noted earlier, she felt she had earned the rest of her coffee.
Mid-grab for her mug, alarms blared and she snatched back her hand. She suppressed the irritation that came with one her academic modes being interrupted (She missed being a teacher. The phone would ring, people would shuffle around, she would drop her pen, whatever—and she would continue with the lecture because that is why she was there.). Beckoning the leader that had jurisdiction when there were klaxons involved, she looked disdainfully at her desk for a moment, as if it was in the way (It was.). Around the two corners, she strode to the exit.
"Next crisis."
