I've been home, alone, with a grumpy and not-very-well baby all day. No surprise, I'm short on bright ideas for fresh material... but I did write a few lines of my novel draft. And this is part of it.
"Are you free to work the day after tomorrow?" Thomas got to the point.
"Yeah, sure, of course." I hoped I didn't sound too desperate, too available, though perhaps the impression, if he got it, would be accurate. I laughed, from nerves or something, and then felt the need to keep talking, to explain my laugh. And it was odd that another teacher had called me to arrange relief work. I said, "I'm beginning to think this principal is a figment of your communal imagination."
"He'd have called you himself but something's come up."