Maxwell's Silver Bullet (1)

I have a rich fantasy life. It’s a necessity for a single woman of a certain age who’s slightly worse for wear. But even I couldn’t have dreamed up the scene I stumbled on in my office that night.

Attending the book signing hadn’t been my first choice for a scintillating evening but duty calls. It was Shelly’s first charity event and she wanted everything perfect. I was there to hold her hand until she felt more comfortable; I figured I’d give her an hour and then I could go catch up on some paperwork. You know what they say about best laid plans though.

Running into an old high school flame hadn’t been on my agenda so it was nearing midnight when I fumbled open the office door – only dropping the keys once. “It must have been that fourth glass of wine,” I muttered under my breath. Knowing the office layout like the back of my hand, even the reception area, I didn’t turn on any lights but made a beeline for the door to my private office.

Oddly, flickers of light showed at the bottom of the door.

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