Men And Their Work
James Rott did not like Rasperry Thomas. Peering over the fence into the next door yard, he glared at the perfect garden and house. Lowering his eyes when the occupant of one of the lawn chairs looked over in his general direction, he snipped a thorn off his rose bush. Snorting, he clipped off the final thorn, and stepped back to admire his handiwork.
There was more than one reason for not liking the woman, he mused as he walked to the garden shed to put his shears away. She always had that sneaky look around her. Of course, it did not help that old Mrs. Thimla had died earlier this week. It was certainly suspicous, he decided, that Raspberry Thomas had moved in after the old womans death.
Hanging the shears in their proper place in the shed, he closed the door and locked it. Running a hand through his graying hair, he shot one last glare at her house. Jogging to the back porch, he pulled out a cellphone from his overalls. Punching in a number, he waited for the person to answer.
Kirk Worbreather was a busy man. His desk was cluttered with papers, there was also many cups of coffee. It was rare that he went home before 12 A.M. He got up to work at 6, and left at 7. But he liked his life even though it was a busy one.
Setting his head down not to gently on his desk and the papers cluttered on it, a cellphone started ringing mere inches from his ear. Grunting, he lifted his head and stared at the piles as if the culprit of that annoying ring would pop out.
Snorting to himself for his foolish thinking, he reached into the pile of papers, and pulled out his cellphone plus a paper cut. Poking his finger in his mouth, he flipped his cellphone and put it on his ear.
"Kirk." The voice on the other end said.
"James. Why are you calling me right now?"
"I need to know about someone."
"Who is this person that is so important that you needed to interrupt my work for it?" Kirk ignored the fact that he wasn't actually doing that, but James didn't need to know.
"Raspberry Thomas. You know the lady who moved in next door just after Mrs. Thimla died?"
"Her? What do you need to know about her? She's not really suspicious after all."
The sound of sighing could be heard from the other end. "Look, just tell me what you know about her."
Rubbing his chin, he leaned back in his leather chair. "All I know about Ms. Thomas is that she moved here after the old woman died. That and she works as a waitress in the diner on 50'th Street. You know, Mr. Sullys?"
"Yes I know. Well thank you for giving me some info on her. I should let you get back to work. Goodbye."
Closing his cell, he closed his eyes and leaned back to the point of falling off. He remained like that for several minutes before he stood up. His back was sweaty from his chair, but he didn't mind. It was always like that after he had sat in his chair for a few hours without taking a break.
Stretching, he picked up his cell and slipped it in it's holder. Making for his door, he grabbed his coat, and flicked the lights off as he left. Closing the door behind
him and locking it, he told his secretary that he was going out for his lunch break, and that he would be back within the hour to start on his work again.
This, quite frankly, is the first time I have ever shared this. I literally have not shown this to anyone. I hope to get this published one day.
By the way, Do Not Steal.