Page 105 of In Sheets of Rain

* * *

“Read any good books lately?” Michael asked as I reached up to a shelf above my head for some brochures.

“More likely to be reading these,” I said, showing him the sales leaflets before I shoved them in my briefcase.

He leaned against the shelf next to me, his suit jacket gone, his crisp white shirt almost blinding. His tie, today, was green.

I preferred the burgundy.

“What about movies, then? Surely you’ve been to the movies.”

“Nope. Busy, busy, busy.”

“You know what they say,” he said.

“All work and no play?” I guessed.

He shook his head, blue eyes intense and focused solely on me.

“No,” he said softly.

I held my breath.

“What do they say, then?” I eventually asked.

He smiled.

“Mincemeat doesn't hang on hooks,” he said.

I blinked.

“What?” I said, trying not to laugh out loud.

“Well, it’s true,” he said. “Have you ever tried it?”

“No!” I said, giving in to the laughter.

“What about the movies?” he asked. “Wanna go?”

My smile dimmed, and I turned back to my leaflets.

“I fly down to Christchurch tomorrow. Better get an early night.”

“OK,” he said. “Next time.”

* * *

Ireached into the back of the stationery cupboard and found a pen that should have been made of gold.

“Wow,” Michael said from behind me. “You actually found one. Gail only hands those out to people she likes.”

“Gail stocks this?” I asked.

“She’s in charge of office supplies.” He leaned down and whispered. “And she guards them with her life.”

I smiled.

“You should hide that,” he said, nodding towards the pen.

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