No work today, he replied. 1pm at the library?
The usual place, responded Ellen. She had a favorite little corner of the library, a tucked-away space nobody went to because meeting rooms were down that way and nobody used them, and she liked acting like they were both shadier than they were.
Ian would need to wrap it in a garbage bag. He got up to grab the needlepoint and blinked, staring at the empty space behind the futon. Maybe he needed more coffee. He went back to his mug, had a few more sips, returned to the futon, and got down on his hands and knees.
No purple and red needlepoint resting against the wall behind the futon. Nothing on the floor underneath it, either. Ian was sure he’d put it there yesterday. And before he’d been drinking. He leaned back, fell on his ass, and swore.
