by Glen Cook
Life never worked out the way you wanted. Everyone was victimized by social equivalents of the theories of that dirty old man, Heisenberg.
The comm buzzed. McClennon answered. A moment later, he called, "Mouse, Jupp's coming in to spend a few days." He returned to the terrace. The ship burned down the sky, toward where the city's lighted towers made fairy spires that soared above distant woods. McClennon pretended it was a shooting star. He made a wish. "Want to play a game while we're waiting?"
Mouse grinned. "You're on."
"Stop smirking. I'm going to whip you this time, old buddy."
And he did. He finally did.
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Document creation date: 07.06.2008
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