“Good morning, Mr Feathercott.”
Mr Feathercott would have ignored her, had not the infuriating manners of his youth forced him to return the salutation.
“I trust you slept well, Mrs Feathercott,”
“Yes, Mr Feathercott.”
“How comforting. I had a very unpleasant evening,” Mr Feathercott said, still not looking up from his meagre meal. The smell of bacon and eggs made him stomach turn rather abruptly.
“Oh?” Mrs Feathercott replied, clearly preoccupied.
Mr Feathercott was not satisfied with this. His wife, surely, should show more concern for his welfare! He wanted to complain, moreover, of her lack of support the night before. But complaining would mean recalling the disagreeable events of the previous evening, and Mr Feathercott did not wish to be confronted with this.
They breakfasted largely in silence, with Mrs Feathercott eating with a healthy appetite and Mr Feathercott regarding the glistening bacon with a look halfway between disgust and desire. Their repast was nearing an end when a small figure entered by the side door which led to the kitchen...
Monday, February 22, 2010
365: Word Count
Today's word count is 1731. I'm pretty happy with that; it's about two chapters in Mr Feathercott's Business. Here's a little sample: