Rata Scoo lived a peaceful life in the countryside. The fireplace would take a while to heat up the cottage in the mornings, and she would wait with tea in hand, bundled with a scarf watching the light sift through in the soft morning windows. Rata Scoo thought about the rabbits who had visited in her front yard the other day. The little brown one, in particular: he had hopped around, charming and velvet, with a petite white spot on his left ear.
Hemal Herks shivered out of his car in a bad mood. There were pigeons on the dock today. Hemal Herks didn't like pigeons. Sticking out his lower lip in in a frown, Hemal Herks grabbed his umbrella from the passenger seat, careful to not get his hair stuck on the metal doorframe like that other day. "Biscuits should be on the menu," he thought briskly. "It's a colorful Tuesday outside."
Hest Jinks looked up from his evening newspaper, interrupted at a new sound. "That's a rather peculiar kind of noise," he murmured, not wanting to get up to investigate further. His leg was bothering him and he had, after all, been feeling quite cozy sunken in the plushy arms of his chair. It had been a grizzly sort of afternoon, prickly and scattered. Hest Jinks wondered when his wife would be home, and looked forward to seeing the red knit scarf she had been boasting so pompously about.
Written by Jennifer Segal
George Washington University
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