Why, no, I’m not going through all my settings and seeing how they’d reacting to a pandemic. I mean, well, maybe a little. Any you want to see?
Winter, Autumn, Summer, and Spring.
“6 p.m. Eastern,” Summer was saying as Autumn logged on. “You were early, Winter, of course. Spring’s late, of course.”
“She is on the West Coast,” Winter retorted mildly. He was wearing his work shirt and tie sans jacket and he’d loosened the tie. The whole image looked very professional against his home bookshelf, if you ignored the fact that he was holding Tortuga, his half-grown cat, while Myrrh, his ferret, climbed the bookshelf and Dehradun, his kitten, napped on the laptop keyboard.
Autumn giggled, even though it might not be kind. Of all of them, she’d have expected Summer to be the pet owner, not Winter.
“She is,” Autumn agreed, “and being on time would disagree with her. How are you both?” Continue reading