Short Story Preview: Something Unspoken
‘I wonder,’ Alfred remarked, slicing his buttered toast into soldiers, ‘Might you have sent them to be laundered, do you suppose?’
‘No, I do not suppose,’ snapped George, tapping into his boiled egg. ‘What would be the point of sending the bottoms without the top?’
Alfred looked benignly at his friend and shook his head. He had heard things, unkind things about George and his weak bladder.
‘Well,’ he said, adding a note of feeble cheer to his voice, ‘I daresay your pyjama bottoms will turn up sooner rather than later.’ And then turning to the adjacent table, ‘Where are we off to this cold winter’s morning? Any ideas, Miss Darling?’
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