A Rather Strange Christmas for Carol
In the darkness, a male figure hunched over books and ledgers scribbling away, industriously. The lack of light did not seem to to bother him, but the amount of work obviously did, as his audible response to the never-ending paperwork might politely be described as prolific and possibly a little less than ‘Christmassy’. Not that anyone could hear him: his work space was confined to a specific area, out-of-bounds to others without exceptions, apart, perhaps, the occasion of his death, when a new worker might be needed to take his place. Yet someone or something loomed close.
The scribbling continued. Scratch, scratching away with a rusty old pen that needed replacing. But where could he obtain one? And, more importantly how much would it cost? Figures were his nemesis, and perhaps at that point his awareness featured in this category too, for he was unaware that he was being watched. But even if he had been aware, he would not have paused, nor ceased
shelleypalmer
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