Ovomancy

an excerpt

This is what the egg tells me.

Today Marcel will go to lunch at a bistro near his office. He’ll leave his desk and walk down the cream-coloured corridor, noticing the scrape Brett’s belt buckle made on the wall when Tess hammerlocked him into it after another unsubtle innuendo. He’ll fleetingly miss Tess, who was relocated to another building after a confidential HR process. Brett—like Marcel, a lawyer—will still be there. Tess will not. Times two. Not a lawyer. Not still there.

Marcel’s walk will take longer because of his foot. Two weekends earlier a half- buried shell at a lake north of the city will have sliced it mid-sole, requiring three stitches at a regional hospital. He’ll be using the cane he bought when he sprained his knee two summers before that, when he figured out that a cane works better opposite the injured leg, not next to it. His cane will tick on the hardwood of the elevator lobby, its rubber foot-cap having worn through along its edge. He will remind himself to stop at the drugstore on his way back for a replacement. The glass circle of the elevator button will light up at his touch with the whiteness of a soft-boiled egg.

Alanna Rusnak

With over eighteen years of design experience, powerful understanding of publishing technology, a passionate love for stories, and a desire to make dreams come true, Alanna Rusnak is your advocate, mentor, friend, cheerleader, and the owner/operator of Chicken House Press.

https://www.chickenhousepress.ca/
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