Step 46
Monday evening at six and Rich Lister was in the kitchen, feeling like crap, with three days of plates in the sink and a wilting some sort of green plant in a red plastic pot and an empty cat bowl. Puss had gone missing. He was sitting at the kitchen table reading a book, an epic novel full of excessive words and way too many pages, drinking hot, black coffee having pushed the screwed-up copy of Racing Ahead to the other side. That is the copy with the black ink circles around five losing horses. He cut a piece of Victoria sponge cake that his grandpa had made to cheer him up, who was a master baker, that was so light and tasty he thought it could have been eaten in heaven by angels. His hand had been resting on the open book as he had cut the slice and as he raised his hand with the cake the book blew back several pages. Or they seemed to blow back but there was no draft. The page number was 46 wh ic h dId not have any significance for him so he Ignored It ...