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November 11th, 2015

[info]spacecowboys in [info]repose

Eddie N

[Locked to Eddie N]

So, if you ever want great beer on draft.

[info]author in [info]repose

public.

The library will be offering fine-free Wednesdays from now through the beginning of the year.

Please return any books that are late for a full pardon on the late fines.

Thank you.

L. Roberts

[info]ex_perspecti86 in [info]repose

Sam A, Public.

[Locked to Sam A]

I've made soup if you want to come have a bowl sometime.

[Public]

This sort of cold just calls for a roaring fire, doesn't it?

[info]beyondsense in [info]repose

[Crust & Crumb]

[The sign in the window that advertises the seasonal specials is changed at the end of business hours on Wednesday. It now reads:

Muffins:
Pumpkin Spice

and
Scones:
Apple Cinnamon
.

The rest of the Daily Offerings remain the same.]

[info]thefixer in [info]repose

Jude & Wren:

Who: Jude C & 'Sparrow'
What: Hitching a ride
When: Late afternoon

The car was low-slung. It felt lower, because the seats sagged on their infrastructure and the seat covers were wrinkled, and littered with crumbs. (Oliver. Jude didn't eat in his car, thank you very much.) There was a metallic kind of thud and rattle if the speedometer ticked past forty and the wind outside whistled through the gap in the permanently-cracked window, like an overly optimistic attempt to catch a breeze.

Still. It worked. And that was, Jude thought with his elbow on the door and the wheel loose in his fingertips, enough. Wasn't it? The car gave an apologetic cough of fumes through a dangling-drunk fuse pipe but ticked on toward the on-road back to the highway. Jude periodically took a tiny roadtrip toward the city: to keep them in funds, to check in on the news and to identify any opportunities that might have arisen in the gap between one trip and the next. And it wasn't as if the roads were lined with people between town and city. Repose was out of the way. That was the beauty of running a con from a small town.

Except there was someone on the verge. Literally. Grass beneath her feet, rail at her knee. The rattle-sick car slowed. The window rolled a little lower and an investigative head, topped with wildly messy hair, leaned out.

"Excuse me." Experimentally. Pleasant voice. Friendly, even. "Are you going someplace?" She looked harmless. Not that you could tell. Jude had a sudden (visceral) memory of throwing-out time at the bar before this one. No, you certainly couldn't tell. But harmless, on the side of the road. Chances of being screaming-drunk, not high.

[info]hauntedsoul in [info]repose

[public.]

live flowers won't last long in the cold. fake ones ain't so bad, don't think i'd mind 'em if i was dead. ain't it the thought that counts?