William Bereza on Unsplash

The red-headed writer (aka la Raconteuse) was very much revived now after that excellent coffee at the Six-Sentence-Café-and-Bistro, while she chatted to Mimi who had been stacking the clean glasses and other things by the counter.

“Do you need any help around here?” asked la Raconteuse.

“Gosh no, nothing needed around here,” said Mimi, “however, there is one thing you can do, as she held up one finger and grinned; “just wait for a couple of minutes, I will be back,” as she darted back through the double doors, past the kitchen, past the Manager’s Office and beyond.

Then the tall, thin man appeared from the double doors, he must have been in his Manager’s Office all the time; he was now carrying a large cardboard box which was clearly rather heavy: “hmm, intriguing,” thought la Raconteuse, as she smiled radiantly to the tall, thin man, as he put that box on one of the tables.

But then there was much barking behind the double doors: “why, it must be Hūnga!” said la Raconteuse, as Mimi and Hūnga appeared just then; “now that’s going to be fun,” grinned la Raconteuse, “I’m thinking we should go for a lovely walk, what do you think, dear Hūnga?” – as Hūnga woofed back.

And so, since it was a gorgeous spring day, la Raconteuse, Hūnga and the tall, thin man all went on a walk by the wide river and by the cherry blossom trees, and that big box was forgotten for the moment.

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William Bereza on Unsplash

The red-headed writer (aka la Raconteuse) had been busy tidying up around her little apartment, not something she did very often, but needs must, although after more than two hours she was beginning to flag.

Still, it was definitely worth it, especially her lovely table where she writes; it was mostly for working on her laptop, but she often printed things out for prudence sake, one wouldn’t want to lose in that way after all, as she shuddered for a moment.

Now everything was in order, she had pruned all those unnecessary pieces of A4 paper, and the useful ones she had used her paper hole puncher to put them into several binders, as she smiled to herself being pleased with what she had done.

Her vintage Velos lightning-perforator two hole puncher which she’d used it in the office when she worked there (and then nicked it on that last day), now she tried to pinch it open carefully, but it seemed to be stuck, but then, of course, it sprung open and all those tiny round paper bits, almost like confetti, dropped all around the table and floor.

More than irritating as she glared at the once clean and sparkling area, as she trudged to the kitchen cupboard.

But then she had a thought as she looked outside, it was such a lovely spring day; she should go out and have a quick walk over to the Six-Sentence-Café-and-Bistro, since that would be the perfect coffee to drink just now.

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