![]() ![]() ![]() A group of rough-looking men dressed for work in the canning factory jostled me I murmured an apology and ducked around a flock of chattering shop girls. The perfect start to the workweek.Īt the end of the block, I plunged into the crowds along River Street, the main thoroughfare cutting through the heart of Widdershins. ![]() I’d just enjoy a nice, brisk walk across town, carrying thirty pounds of paper. I swallowed a curse and readjusted my grip on my notes and books. The driver cracked his whip, and the bus pulled away, flinging half-melted slush out of the road and onto my trousers. I tried to step on after them, but the conductor blocked my path. I was now hurrying to work in a slept-in suit, my cheeks reflecting the hastiest shave, with neither coffee nor breakfast to brace me.Ī group of clerks climbed onto the omnibus. I’d neglected to wind the alarm clock the night before, caught up in my translations of hieroglyphics until I nodded off in my armchair. I ran down Merry Cat Lane to the waiting omnibus, my arms full of books and loose notes. Ladysmith Museum, who would not look kindly on my late arrival to the all-staff meeting. Unfortunately, even though the man in question had died in Egypt some four-thousand years ago, he had living representatives. I was late for my appointment with a dead man. ![]()
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