Not that the day had started badly. He was on the four pm to midnight shift this week, leaving the mornings free to take Jessica to school, and yesterday and today he'd thought it would be good to have the ferret with him, watch the kids jostle nervously, wanting to touch but fearful of sharp teeth. He'd even dared them a little. He got a kick out of it—their fear, his difference from the other parents: drones, most of them.Then he'd gone home via the bakery, where he'd grabbed milk, escargot and the local paper, the Progress, and settled with a milky coffee on the front verandah, overlooking bracken and blackberry canes and across to the strangled peppermint gums on Five Furlong Road. Sipped his coffee and chewed his escargot—stale, probably yesterday's—and flipped through the paper, stopping to read his weekly letter, the one they called The Meddler Report, getting a little glow and rekindling his general outrage. He moved on to Tessa Kane's own weekly column, right next to his.
What do You think about Challis - 02 - Kittyhawk Down?
