Friday, June 8, 2007

June 7

Once inside the room, the intruder paused again to take a look at the private world of the writer.

It was cast in a warm glow from the ever-burning desk lamp. Neat and orderly, everything was in its place so as to be found with barely a distracted thought given to needing it, let alone finding it. The d├ęcor was simplistic at best but the writer had made it so intentionally; a desk and chair, lamps, scores of books, a computer on the desk, few pictures on the walls. It was a place for working, not a place for distractions.

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