Teaser Tuesday time. This comes from THE SPIDER, Elemental Assassin #10, Dec. 24. Enjoy! I rustled around in the refrigerator, grabbing cold cuts, cheese, and more, before taking everything over to the counter, where a fresh loaf of Sophia’s sourdough bread was waiting. I hummed under my breath as I built my meal. Thin slices of smoked turkey and honey ham; thick slabs of sharp cheddar cheese; sweet, crunchy butter-leaf lettuce; a couple of rings of red onion; sliced fresh tomatoes sprinkled with salt and pepper; all of it topped off with a hearty layer of mayonnaise, a dollop of mustard, and another piece of bread. Three minutes later, I had the perfect sandwich. Too hungry to get a plate, I stood at the counter and sank my teeth into the layers of goodness. The tomatoes were like a bright burst of summer in my mouth, brought out by the creamy mayonnaise. The meats were the ideal blend of smoky and sweet, while the lettuce and onions gave every bite a healthy bit of crunch. I quickly finished that sandwich and made myself another one. Fletcher entered the kitchen, still dressed in his blue work clothes, although he’d taken the time to wash his hands and face. He wandered over to the counter. “That looks good.” His stomach rumbled in time with his words. I gave Fletcher the second sandwich and fixed a third one. He put it on a napkin, poured himself a glass of sweet iced sun tea that I’d made this morning, and carried everything into the den. I thought he might turn on the TV, but the area remained quiet. I stayed in the kitchen, finished my sandwich, and opened the fridge again, wondering what I could whip up for dessert. I had some chocolate chip cookies that I’d baked yesterday. Maybe I’d use them and a pint of fudge ice cream to make some quick and easy ice cream sandwiches— “Gin,” Fletcher called out. “Come here, please.” I sighed at the interruption, but I closed the refrigerator and trooped into the den, where he was sitting on the worn plaid sofa. “Yeah?” He hesitated, then picked up a manila folder from the scarred wooden coffee table and waved it at me. I perked up, forgetting all about dessert. “What’s that?” “A job—maybe.”
Posted on: Tue, 17 Sep 2013 12:21:42 +0000
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