Here we go!
As a reminder, the goal is to revise and mail out a story each week for the next six weeks.
Up first: “The Diplomat’s Holiday”…
The Diplomat dropped her bag on the marble floor, allowing the delightful thud to complete its roll through the hotel’s vast lobby before shouting, “Where the hell is the porter?”
Two weeks, she had. Two weeks to be rude. To be unreasonable. To shout and swear and…
The Diplomat smiled.
Not Smile 47-R, only a touch haughty, used to silence an insecure opponent. Not Smile 23-H, indicating mildest disbelief and thus an invitation to further argument. Not even Smile 6-A, “The Mona Lisa”, the workhorse of any diplomat’s repertoire, an all-purpose concealer of ignorance, of irritation, of intention.
This smile was none of those. It was a wide, wolfish grin. It revealed everything.
Let the revision begin…