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Happy holidays, all!
I started writing this for a Short Affair prompt back in August and never got around to finishing it, but I had a flush of inspiration and some time to kill yesterday, so here it is.
It was nine o’clock on Monday morning, and Agent Robert Price was dead on his feet. Though pulling an all-nighter in order to finish his backed up paperwork had been unavoidable, that fact didn’t make the experience any less unpleasant. After four years in the field, he’d been in his share of tough spots, but still nothing flummoxed him so much as an endless night of cajoling his stiff fingers to strike the typewriter keys and the resulting lines blurring and doubling up before his tired eyes.
This morning, as soon as he’d gotten his badge from the secretary on duty and dropped off the offending papers, Robert had beelined for the hall coffeepot, where he stood now, just reveling in the steam floating up from his paper cup.
Another figure approached, and Robert lifted his head as Agent Marvin Dillinger drew up beside him.
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